


So What Now?

by GracefullPhantom



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-27 08:14:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2685647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GracefullPhantom/pseuds/GracefullPhantom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kindly Bosmer Estina gets caught up in the Dark Brotherhood. So she does what any rational person would: she kills them all. Except she left one person still standing in the aftermath of the bloodbath, one crazy madman who could be her undoing, or the best damn thing that's ever happened to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**1**

  
It was a normal day in Skyrim for Estina. The sun was shining bright for once, there were birds chirping delightfully overhead, a soft breeze was blowing on the wind, and another dead body fell at her feet.

  
The woman's name was Grelod, Grelod the Kind, she had only taken the little boy she met earlier up on this offer because she had talked to the women before on a chance meet and her rudeness did not bode well with her Bosmer blood. At the time she had not had an excuse to murder her so when the little Arentino boybegged her to take Grelod’s life, well, who was she to turn down the offer?

The other women – Constance she believed her name was? – opened the door to see Estina standing over the dead body and wearing a smug smile of satisfaction.  
Constance began shaking in fear before rounding up the kids, afraid that she might come for them next. Fortunately for them she had no further quarrel with honorhall and left to send word to Aventus.

The wood elf made her way back to Windhelm, the path was well worn and easy to follow and with her horse the trip only took a few short hours. She arrived at the Arentino house to deliver the good news and the boy was so happy he wrapped his little arms around her lithe waist.

She almost wanted to push him off, but she wasn’t as cold blooded as some people, so she let him hug her for another awkward moment in which he finally let go. Estina wasn’t used to this kind of affection, or dealing with children at all really, yet she was curious what he would offer her since he promised to give her something in return for her troubles.

Aventus handed the Bosmer a silver plate that was still kept in rather good condition. Cocking her head as the boy tried to push it into her arms, “I have no need for this now,” he kept saying. With a sigh she took the plate and ruffled his hair gently.

Silence fell upon the two for a moment, Aventus’s smile fell as he realized his only goal had been accomplished which now left him at the mercy of fate. She stared at the small frame of Arentino’s body and was curious as to just how long he had been doing the Black Sacrament. She could tell above all other things he had skipped quite a few meals and the dark circles under his eyes didn’t fit on a face so young.

Estina pursed her lips. She would wonder about the boy if he didn’t have a plan. Not worry, no not worry, but _wonder_. The thought would consume her brain if she didn’t know any or all possible outcomes. If he were to die, so be it. If he wished to return to Riften, that was fine with her as well but _what_ , she wondered, would be his course of action?

“What do you plan to do next?”

Aventus seemed a little taken aback and he took a little step away from her. Clearly, he had not given too much thought to the aftermath, “I… uh don’t know.”

Standing and putting the plate underneath she arm she sent him a small smile. He needed to do something, I don’t know was a phrase that grated Estina’s ears just to think about. She needed to hear a solid answer. Even if she had to make one up for him, “Why don’t you head back to Riften? After all Grelod is dead and I’m sure it’s better than staying here.”

The Arentino boy looked around his dark and decrepit home and she could visibly see the shiver that ran through him. He had starved himself, been deprived of sleep, and worst of all avoided hydration as she could see him wobbling, looking faint and dizzy. All because he had desperately wanted a “Dark Brotherhood” assassin to show up.

She wondered what kind of people actually believed in that crap.

Then again, getting paid to simply murder people didn’t sound so bad either. Yet, she had to wonder how they could possibly know when people perform the ritual. Obviously their sources were lacking if they couldn’t see this begging boy with a blood stained knife in his hand. Perhaps it was because all he had was a plate as payment?

Aventus’s face brightened for a moment at the prospect of seeing his friends and nodded, “Yeah. That sounds nice.”

Estina began to feel the workings of a steady plan forming but then another thought crossed her mind, how would get there? Surely she couldn’t escort him, and she hoped he wouldn’t expect her to. She frowned as the edges of her plan were fringed, “How do you plan to return?”

Aventus blinked a couple of times and twiddled his thumbs. He was afraid of her, she could see it with every little move he made. Every little twist and jerk of his body showed it. True, she was probably the most respected person on his list, but he was still afraid of her and her abilities nonetheless.

“I’ll walk…” he said quietly.

Estina wasn’t sure if she was satisfied with this answer or not. He had a plan, after all he had come here on foot in the first place, yet he was a child. A child who performed the Black Sacrament, but still a child.

Her mouth spoke without her minds permission, “If you stay here for a couple more days I’ll send someone to escort you to Riften.”

He looked up at her with wide eyes, “But… I don’t…”

Quick in her mind as she was on her toes she finalized the decision, “Her name is Lydia. You can trust her to get you to safety. Now, rest until she arrives.”

With nothing left to say, or waiting around to argue with a child, she turned and left the house. When she walked outside she inhaled the cold Skyrim air and felt her spine pop as she breathed in as deep as possible. Cracking her neck she continued on her merry way.

On the way back to Breezehome in Whiterun she found a peculiar path just off of the main road. She began to wonder where it led and started to follow it, getting off her horse to allow her legs to stretch. She walked on and at the same time questioned why she hadn’t born a Khajiit due to her copious amounts of curiosity.  
Lost in thought she hadn’t bothered to realize where she was going and found herself face to face with a dark brown horse who breathed the scent of grass into her face.

She twitched her nose and walked around the wagon only to find a funny little man in a jester’s outfit at the back. He was stomping the ground and cursing the gods as he stared down at something. Estina followed his gaze and saw a wooden wheel broken and missing several spokes whilst being crushed under the weight of whatever was in the carriage, “Agh! Bother and befuddle! Poor Cicero is stuck here! Stuck! My mother, oh my poor mother. Unmoving. At rest, but too still!”

She raised a thin eyebrow at the man’s interesting choice of words. She wasn’t sure what it was but there was something highly entertaining about him, “Is there a problem?” she asked cautiously.

He turned towards her, a large frown present on his face making him look rather old, “Poor Cicero is stuck. Can’t you see? I was transporting my dear sweet mother, well not her. Her corpse! She’s quite dead. I’m taking mother to a new home. A new crypt. But… ugh! Wagon wheel! Damnedest wagon wheel! It broke!”

Estina blinked her dark red eyes at him, somehow finding his way of speech rather entertaining. Leaning on one leg her hand fell to her hips, fingers touching the cold handle of one her ebony blades. While she would much rather refuse to do anything for this Cicero man, she felt an odd sense of compulsion to help him, perhaps it was the unsatisfied curl of his lips, or the soft flutter of his long red hair in the breeze. She looked on for a moment longer and noticed that the marks in his face weren’t wrinkles, but more like finely sharpened lines to mark out every detail on his face. With the frown it still made him look older though.

She was curious to know if he would dance for her. He was a jester after all.

She crossed her arms, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Dance he did as clapped his hands and hopped from foot to another, a smile adorning his face which hid his unsightly age from moments before, “Oh. Oh yes! Yes, the kindly stranger can certainly help!” he danced a moment longer before stopping, “Go to the farm. The Loreius farm. Just over there, off the road. Talk to Loreius. He has tools! He can help me! But he won’t, he refuses!”

She nodded and took one step towards the windmill she could see a few paces away when he continued to speak, “Convince Loreius to fix my wheel! Do that, and poor Cicero will reward you, with coin! Gleamy, shiny coin!”

She nodded again and this time really was off. She considered walking back to the main path but when she turned she saw him gazing forlornly at the broken wheel, she sighed and made a sharp turn towards the entrance of the farm, her obedient horse trotting loudly behind her on the stone.

“Sir?” she said to the man sitting in a chair on his porch.

He looked at her, angry, “Oh for the love of Mara what now?”

She pointed her thumb in the general direction of the jester, “That little jester over there really needs your help. His wagon broke down.”  
He scoffed, “That Cicero guy?” he exhaled sharply in irritation, “tell me something I don’t know! That crazy fool has already asked me about five times. Seems he’s not satisfied with my answer. Why can’t he just leave us alone?”

She raised the same thin eyebrow, “So what’s the problem? I’m sure he’ll pay you.”

“Pay me? You think this is about money? Have you seen the man? He’s completely out of his head! A jester here in Skyrim? There ain’t been a merryman in these parts for a hundred years. And he’s transporting some giant box. Says it’s a coffin and he’s going to bury his mother. That’s a new one, but a lie no doubt I’d bet. He could have anything in there! War contraband, weapons, skooma. There ain’t no way I’m getting involved in any of that.”

Estina pursed her lips, fully aware of the point he was making, yet still feeling compelled to help the odd man. Besides, who knows if and when they meet again?

“How can you even prove any of that? He may seem a little, um, off but he really needs your help. If you’re that concerned I don’t think he’d take too much offense if you just asked him what’s in the box.”

Loreius frowned, his eyebrows creating a thick V in the center of his forehead, “Who in Mara’s name are you anyway? Come here, telling me my business. And for what! To help a… a fool?”

“Give me a reason why you shouldn’t help him,” I gave him a look that disapproving mothers give to their child when they’ve been caught doing something bad.

“Look I… I…” Loreius was at a loss for words and after a moment of stumbling he gave, “I guess you’re right. He might be nuts, then again he might not. Either way he still needs help. I suppose…”

She uncrossed her arms, not even realizing she had them folded in the first place, and smiled. Reaching up for the reigns of her horse the two started to walk towards his mill, “Even if he did have contraband or the like, wouldn’t you rather it be far away from you and your home rather than down the road?”

Loreius skipped a step in the road and tripped a little, “You’re right… I hadn’t even thought of that…” he sighed as he stepped into the stone archway, “look, um thanks. And sorry for my… rude reaction. If you talk to Cicero tell him I’ll be down to help soon.”

He turned and she went back down the hill to where the jester was still stuck. Before Estina was even close to seeing him she could hear him humming a mile away. As she drew closer he must have heard her foot falls on the stone because he turned to look at her, “I talked to Loreius,” she said, “he agreed to fix your wheel.”

A look of surprise filled Cicero’s face and this made him look like a young child receiving his first gift, “You… you did? He has? Oh stranger! You have made Cicero so happy! So very happy indeed, but more, even more my mother thanks you! Here, here for your troubles. Shiny, pretty coin! A few gold coins for a good deed. Thank you! Thank you again so very much.”

Cicero handed the Bosmer a coin purse with about three hundred gold in it from the way it felt. She smiled to him, “It was no trouble,” with some hesitation she added, “May Talos guide you safely to your destination.”

Cicero turned away and she could’ve sworn she heard him say “The only god that exists is Sithis.” She felt her eyebrows knit together and was just about to act upon it when the soft footfalls of someone walking towards them came into earshot. She stuck around for a few moments longer, watching Loreius reattach the wheel.

She let her thoughts carry her away for a few moments and when her eyes came back into focus she found that she had been in an unintentional staring contest with the jester. When she blinked he stuck out a playful tongue and her and she wrinkled her nose in irritation yet still finding his childish action endearing. She turned away and in the silence that followed something was drawing her towards the large crate on the back of the carriage. She focused in on the feeling, letting her mind try to pinpoint the source but all she could hear was her heartbeat loud in her ears. At least, that’s what she thought it was, the steady rhythmic pulse seemed to be coming elsewhere, seemed to vibrate the air around her and work its way into her core. What was that noise?

A sense of longing washed over her suddenly, as if a force was instructing her to do something she would otherwise refuse. She wasn’t sure what she was craving for but after staring at Loreius’s neck for a while she realized she wanted nothing more than to drag her sword against the smooth skin and watch it ripple with blood. The sound felt soft in her ears, it reminded her of the long nights when she laid upon her mother’s chest when she was a child. The memories of her mother’s sudden death came flooding back, haunting her. The blood, the cries, the screams… and the man. The shadow of the man that did it. Who was he? Who was he…?

She shook her head to try and clear her unnatural thoughts from her head. Deciding that it was time to go she bid the two goodbye and jumped onto her steed to go home towards her original destination.

Her horse had only trotted a few steps away when she heard frantic running and Cicero’s high pitched voice calling for her, “Wait! Wait kindly stranger, Cicero would like to know if he could have your name. On the off chance we meet again.”

Estina tilted her head, funny that she had thought the same thing earlier, “My name is Estina.”

Cicero clapped his hands, “What a pretty name!” he drawled out, “it sounds Bosmer, kind Estina.”

She laughed a little and cracked her thumb against the reins, “That’s because it is.” There was a moment of silence, not awkward, just silence. She thought at first that it was just insulting that he couldn’t tell what race she was but then she remembered the cowl covering her entire head.

Estina pursed her lips as a glint caught her attention and off in the distance she could see what appeared to be the breath of a dragon. She groaned to herself and turned to Cicero. She took note of his somewhat attractive smile that curled his mouth in a devilish grin and smiled herself, “I should be off. I, uh, hope you get to where you’re going. Goodbye.”

Cicero waved to her and she kicked her heels against her horse, urging him to go faster. She went in the opposite direction of the dragon but her horses four hooves were no match for two giant wings racing towards her.

A few paces later the dragon landed directly in front of her, shaking the ground and knocking Estina off her steed. She felt an intense cold as the dragon’s breath washed over her, thankfully her light armor was enchanted with frost resistance, along with some other handy things as well. Still even with the enchantments she could feel her body begin to lock up in the crushing cold. She shivered and forced her stiffening body to keep going.

The dragon rose to the air, pushing down the wind as he lifted himself from the ground. While he opened his wings to fly in a wide arch, Estina took the time to call on her faithful servant, **_“OD AH VIING.”_**

Estina dodged as the dragon – she guessed it was a frost dragon since his breath was coming out in chilly puffs of ice – landed nearly on top of her. When he landed she jumped in recklessly with her dual blades, hoping to end this quickly as she sliced a part of his wing. He roared, but the sound was drowned out as Odahviing made his appearance.

Fire engulfed the area and Estina rolled to her horse to try and lead him to safety. The scratchiness in her throat from calling for Odahviing was beginning to wear off and it began to soothe as she quickly downed a healing potion, smashing the empty bottle to the ground as she leapt away from the icy breath once more. The ice dragon faltered as Odahviing scraped down his opponent’s back with his razor claws, “Why do you fight me brother?” he shouted in the Dov language that she could understand bright as day.

“I answer to the call of the Dovakiin. She has called, and I have come.” Estina scratched the back of her hand and Odahviing flew off, allowing her to come in and attempt a final blow. While the ice dragon was distracted she hopped up its back, climbing his ripped scales and finding an empty patch just below the head where she stood, ready to stab hard as she could when the dragon shook furiously, trying to knock her off.

Estina lost her balance and fell to the ground, losing grip of her poisoned blade and feeling it slice across the back of her thigh as she twisted to avoid falling on top of it like some careless adventurers did. She hit the dirt with a loud thud and Odahviing finished off the frost dragon with a mighty bellow of smoke and fire.

The dragon fell with a tremendous roar that left Estina vibrating. His body burst into flames and she inched slowly away. His soul rushed into her as she absorbed it, learning new understandings of different Thu’um’s. Odahviing flew off and Estina picked herself up off the ground and groaned. Even with the help of another dragon, battles like these still left her bruised and battered to the core. Within the empty corpse she could see something reflecting in the setting sun’s light. She took out a cleansing potion to rid the sting of poison and gingerly sipped the foul liquid while limping towards the object.

Picking up the garnet she stuffed it in her pack, not bothering with the bones or the scales for she had enough at home to build a museum thrice over. She had ended up with so many that even Farengar was getting tired of her offering them to him. She had a mannequin in her home in Markarth that adorned her dragon scale armor, she’d say it was waste making it but she had quickly restocked in scales within the next few days.

It wasn’t often that she left the scales and bones to be chewed on by wolves, there was just something about the dulled artifacts that made her want to horde them like no tomorrow. However as it was she was running out of space in her knapsack and she had to go home and drop off all of her junk, only to make room for more of course. With all her adventures, things never ceased to be thrown her way, maybe as the Dragonborn she just exuded some kind of essence that made people want to give her their extra crap, or as they thought their “precious belongings” which usually consisted of a rusted sword. Every once and a while she’d get a real gem, but not today.

With a sigh she hobbled to her horse and winced at the last few drops of the potion, this was the worst part, where all the ingredients had fallen to the bottom and where most of the potency resided. She wished she could just remember to shake one up before she uncorked it but in the heat of battle things like that were trivial.  
She hopped onto her horse and continued on her way, seemingly unfazed. She allowed her horse to trot at his own pace as she attempted to use her Magicka to heal her various wounds. There was a lump of frostbite that had seeped through the armor on her forearm and it stung worse than an arrow to the knee.

She pulled out a salve she kept in case of emergencies that she got from one of her various adventures and rubbed it tenderly across her skin. Her armor was ripped and it bothered her when it wasn’t in tip-top shape. Of course she had other armor to use, but none was like her favorite light armor, she had some void salts lying around maybe she could get Adrianne to fix it for her instead of personally tending to it.

Until then the armor lost some of its protective value. She had been meaning to use the ebony mail she retrieved from killing Boethiah’s previous champion so that would have to do for now, she wondered how it could tell when to poison enemies and not friends.

When Estina arrived in Whiterun it was well into the night. She steered her horse into the stables and hopped off to tiredly stumble her way home, looking like a drunk madwoman what with all her new scars.

When she entered the gates the entire town was silent yet it seemed as though the couriers never took a moment of rest as a man ran up to her before she could take another step, “I have this letter for you, your eyes only.” He handed her the little yellowed square and ran off to deliver his other messages.

Too tired to bother with it, she headed home, unlocked her house and was startled when Lydia turned towards her from the fire, “Good to see you again my Thane.” She said in her slightly monotone voice with a small smile on her face.

“By Talos Lydia. I thought you were asleep. Why are you up so late?”

Lydia set the cup in her hands down onto the table, “Couldn’t sleep. I’ll probably be up for a while longer, if you don’t mind.”  
Estina inhaled and walked away in answer, not wanting to bother with anymore conversation. She started up the stairs but then remembered why she came to

Breezehome in the first place, “Oh Lydia?”

Her housecarl looked up at her, “Yes my Thane?”

“Tomorrow I’m going to need you to set off for Windhelm. I know you don’t like to leave when I’m not with you and all but consider this official business.”

Lydia sighed, “What kind of business my Thane?” the sound of her title once more made her eye twitch ever so slightly. She hated titles. She hated superficial things like that, even if it did keep her out of trouble, most of the time. Usually if she did something rather unsightly she could get the guards to look the other way for the time being.

“I just need you to find a little boy by the name of Aventus Arentino and escort him safely to Riften. He’ll be in his home which is located somewhere close to the front gates, it’s big so it’s not hard to miss.”

Lydia picked up her drink again and looked down into the shimmery liquid, “Very well my Thane. I shall leave early tomorrow.

Estina, now satisfied, continued up the stairs and fell onto the bed, much too tired to even try to change out of her Nightingale armor. The material was soft and pliable so she barely even felt it rubbing against her skin, all she had to do to get comfortable was remove her cowl so she could breathe easier. She repositioned herself and in her hand the note crinkled. She cracked an eye open and turned to lie on her back, holding the note above her and opening it. On it was an inky black hand and turning it over she saw two words written in a deep red, possibly blood.

_We Know._

She raised a thin eyebrow and decided it was best to ignore this. She figured she could take on anyone who knew anything about her. That is, if there was anything left to find out, it was rather obvious that after one look, she was the Dragonborn. If she died due to overconfidence then oh well, it was her own mistake. She wasn’t usually one for admitting defeat, but she knew failure when she saw it, and at the moment she was most certain that she would be just fine.

Estina smirked and closed her cherry eyes, allowing the faint scent of burning wax to lull her into a deep sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

Before she even opened her eyes she knew wasn’t in Whiterun anymore. The fur sheets beneath her body felt stiff and unused, and she could smell the heavy scent of sweat and urine somewhere in the room.

She cracked an eye open, peering at her surroundings through a slit and staying completely still when a voice broke the silence, “Have a good nap?”

Estina sat up, turning towards the voice. Her ears led her to a woman lounging atop a cabinet, swinging her leg off the wood idly.

“Who are you? Where am I,” she demanded. Her hands dangled at her sides and she felt the tops of her fingers brush against her weapons, good they were still here. She did a quick mental check and noted that she was still rather intact.

“Does it matter? You’re warm, dry, and quite alive. That’s more than can be said for old Grelod hmm?”

She felt my eyebrows come together. She figured such news would spread like dragons fire but how could she possibly know it was her? The only witness had been a frantic women and several children who were rather satisfied with the outcome.

“You know about that then?”

The women scoffed, “Half of Skyrim knows. Old hag gets butchered in her own orphanage? Things like that tend to get around. Oh but don’t mistake that for criticism, it was a good kill after all. Old crone had it coming, and you even saved a group of little urchins on top of that. However… there is a slight problem.”

Estina’s eyes squinted in confusion and for the first time she realized she was missing her cowl, she didn’t feel the familiar leather running across her forehead or her recycled breath circulating in a tiny hot area. Knowing that her face was bare for this stranger to see bothered her to no end. One of the reasons she hid her face was because she was shit at hiding her emotions. With this added knowledge she didn’t trust her voice to come out confidently so she pursed her lips and remained silent.“A silent one eh? I like that. Well, you see, that little Arentino boy was looking for the Dark Brotherhood. For me and my associates,” she tried not to groan at the name. By the gods they just had to be real. The women continued, “Grelod the kind was by all rights a Dark Brotherhood contract. A kill that _you_ stole. A kill you must repay.”

For a brief moment she wondered if they would try to take her life. Would she fall before this measly band of assassins? Her, the defender of the world, the Dragonborn, the one who brought a swift death to Alduin, the girl who brought solace to Sovngarde?  No, why would they kill her? Her life was much more valuable than that crabby old women’s.

When she came to that conclusion there was only one solution left, “So you’re saying you want me to kill someone? Who?”

The women chuckled, “Funny you should mention that, if you turn around you’ll see my guests that I’ve “collected.” You see, there’s a contract on one of them and that person can’t leave this room alive. Oh but, which one is it? Let’s see if you can figure it out. Go on, make your choice. I just want to observe… and admire.”

Estina blinked and turned around, looking at the three captives. All wore a thick sack over their heads and one she heard was weeping softly. She was not a cold blooded killer – most of the time – yet she supposed the only way out was to kill someone.

The Bosmer walked over to the three, mulling over her option. The real question was who deserved to die the most? She _had_ to kill someone… that was the problem. Estina didn’t take kindly to being told what to do. So who, by Talos, who!

After talking to all three of them she could easily see one of two possibilities. Either they all had contacts which was why they were captured, or none of them had contracts and just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Estina let out a frustrated sigh. What if all these people just didn’t fit into this equation of her life at all?

Feeling her thinking gears start up in her head she immediately turned away to shut them down. She was still grumpy and sore from her fight with the dragon, however long ago that was, and thinking was not something she wanted to bother her mind with right now.

So who the fuck does she kill then?

Then, an idea struck her. She turned her head to the side, just enough so she could see the women peering out her from beneath her red hood. Someone… she hadn’t specified who.

Quicker than lightning Estina pulled her spare steel dagger from her pocket, turning and whipping it at the Dark Brotherhood member. The women saw the point flash for merely a second and managed to jerk to the left just in time to avoid a stab to the head. The blade sliced through her armor on her shoulder and blood began to seep from the wound.

“Why you!” she cried before pulling out a dagger of her own and charging for Estina. The elf swerved away from her attack, pulling out her blades and running them in tight slashes to act as a barrier between her and the women’s ferocious slices.

Estina grunted as the women’s blade sliced across her bare cheek, as the dagger arched across the air she saw a faint red glow indicating that it was enchanted with the ability to steal health. She felt a small portion of what felt like her entirety being sucked away in order to benefit the women.

Not wanting to get cut again the Bosmer straightened her back and with a swift intake of air she shouted with all her might the first words that came to mind, **_“FUS RO DAH!”_**  The women went flying back, hitting the other side of the cabin and shaking the walls, knocking the plates and empty mead bottles off a nearby cabinet.

The other three occupants in the room let out startled gasps and huddled together in fear. The women’s hood had fallen off, revealing that she was of Nordic origins and her blonde hair shot out in all directions.

“I’ll kill-” before she could finish the sentence Estina had rushed forward and thrust her blade through her chest. The blood splattered on Estina’s face and dripped down the sides of her cheek. The Nord woman's mouth twisted into a small forced smile, and spoke with a voice just barely above a whisper, “Well done…”

Estina’s heart beat loudly in her pointed ears. The women’s blood dripped from her blade and splashed onto the cold wooden floor below. When she gathered her bearings, Estina took a moment to examine the dagger, wondering if it was of any real use. In the end she decided to take it just in case, figuring she could give it to Lydia or disenchant it if anything.

She searched for a key and her fingertips grazed metal in the top pocket of the women’s armor. Estina started to walk towards the door when the voices of the others reached her ears, “Aren’t you going to let us free?”

“Please let us go please!” someone begged. Estina sighed, she had nearly forgotten about them. Going to the closest victim she held out her new dagger and prepared to cut him free.

The blade sat on the rope and as she began to pull at the knot the feeling from the day before returned. The need, the want, the pleasure of knowing she could bring death to these people in a swift instant overwhelmed her and suddenly the knife was buried deep within the man’s jugular. The instant energy from the life stealing enchantment rushed through her and she felt revived from her fight moments before.

As she looked at the fallen body it came again, the heartbeat, loud and frantic and _excited._ Her own pulse mingled with the one around her and she knew that at that moment there was something giving her this want to kill.

In the background she could make out a small singing voice, whispering like wind and in a funny way playing so loud in her ears that it felt like they were bleeding. It was a hissing voice and it sounded like it was trying to tell her something important but it was somehow too far away from her. It was like a cry far off in the distance, calling, desperate, but the words could not be made clear.

Somehow, despite the incessant chattering, she didn’t mind it.

Death and destruction was a path that had followed her since the day she stepped off the carriage to be executed. Power has been her bedfellow, and fear her greatest weapon. Killing has never been a problem for her before, and it most certainly wasn’t now, but this feeling of pure _bliss_ in knowing these people are dying at her hand was just…. Euphoric.

She avoided senseless killings, simply for the fact that she would never be able to pay off the bounties, even if she was with the Thieves Guild.

The second body fell to her feet without her realizing the deed she had done and she turned slowly towards the last whimpering victim. She was crouched in the corner of the shack, her legs shaking as she tried her best to scoot away, “Why are doing this?” her voice was shaking ever so slightly but she sounded angry more so than scared.

The beat resonated in her ears. She came close to the women, close enough that she could smell the dirt on her face. She reached up with the blade and her pupils dilated. Ironically she answered the woman's plea, “I don’t know.”

No witnesses, she supposed.

With a swift swipe the third body fall, blood rushing out in a messy pool. Estina looked at the chaos around her. Realization crashed upon her, she just murdered a member of the Dark Brotherhood and three other innocents. What happens now?

The heartbeat had stopped, allowing her mind to reclaim its former sanity and logic rushed into her like a broken floodgate. She tried to think back to all the things she had heard about the Dark Brotherhood. The Black Sacrament. The exchange of murder for money. The silence… and one other thing… what _was_ it? The Pen… the Penitus Oculatus. That’s right, the Empire’s watchdogs, the silly name that made her giggle a little bit, but most importantly the enemy of the Dark Brotherhood. Or so she had heard from passing civilians on the streets.

She needed to make her way to the nearest city where they would help her, after all she just murdered a member of the alleged Brotherhood no doubt someone would want to hear about it.

Estina inhaled deeply and turned to walk towards the entrance of the shack. Taking the key she had obtained she unlocked the door and was on her way.

*******

The way to Solitude was boring and tiring, especially without her horse and the distracting yet rhythmic sound of hooves clapping on the stone. Once she left the shack she looked around and after getting her bearings she figured Solitude was the closest city from her current location. After some time she finally arrived at the gates and walked in, feeling rather relieved she had made it. 

The journey hadn’t been long, just frustrating. She had encountered another dragon and absorbed his soul, and several bears who wanted _her_ soul.

Estina saw several Solitude guards but not one member of the Penitus Oculatus and their rather obvious armor. This city was rather tightly stitched, she figured, so perhaps someone could point her in the right direction.

So thinking, she turned to the nearest guard and said, rather blatantly, “I killed a member of the Dark Brotherhood.”

He jumped a little at her sudden confession and looked at her through the small slits in his helmet. She peered at him as well with her hawk like eyes and she could see his own widen, “You did what?” he looked her up and down, noticing the dried blood on her arms and legs, “by the gods… you’re serious aren’t you. You better report this to Commander Maro right away, he’s at Dragon Bridge in the Penitus Oculatus outpost.”

Estina sighed, at least she knew where Dragon Bridge was from here. She’d been there before so getting to her next destination would be easy. However… it could wait for a day. She was tired, and she wanted nothing more than to down a couple of bottles of mead and get some rest.

The elf wandered around town for a while until she came across a sign that read “The Winking Skeever.” Satisfied that she had finally found the inn she entered and ordered a room with what little gold she had on her.

Before going to bed she ordered three bottles of fresh mead and a bowl of soup. She ate the thick yet flavorless potage greedily, happy to at least have _something_ in her belly. When she had her fill she drank to the bottom of the first bottle and took the other two to her room.

For a good portion of the night Estina let the warm mead rush down her throat and dull her senses.

The next morning the headache that comes with drinking too much never hit her, she had barely even gotten buzzed. She could smell that there was, in fact, a rather large amount of alcohol in the wines. More than usual at least, which just goes to show how used to liquor she was.

After lying in bed for a while, letting the events from the previous day rush through and ferment in her mind for a little bit, she sat up and readjusted her bracers before setting off for Dragon Bridge. Before she left the inn however, she stuck around to pickpocket as many people as she could, which at that hour wasn’t too many but the innkeepers safe was easy to open and had a nice lump of change waiting for her.

She left, now a little more satisfied, and halfway down the road she reached up to scratch her nose only to be reminded that she was still missing her hood and cloak. Cursing the gods she made a mental note to retrieve them soon. Either that, or she could send word to Lydia to meet her with her items but she figured it’d be quicker to go home herself than wait for Lydia to return from Windhelm.

Still, she felt bare without something covering her. She reached into her knapsack and fished around until her hand touched something soft, she pulled out some old mage robes she had thought would be useful but turned out to be crap like all the rest. They weren’t any good for armor but the hood would be enough to ease her mind. She preferred it when people couldn’t see her face.

She ripped the cloth in half, separating the hood from the robe and gently wrapping the loose ends around her neck and pulling the knot until it fit snugly. When she pulled the hood over her head, the pointed tip resting just above the bridge of her nose, she felt somewhat whole again.

Estina kept walking and before she knew it she was crossing Dragon Bridge, the loose stones crunched under her feet and the wind blew against her back to let the ends of shoulder length hair blow in the breeze.

She reached the outpost and with some hesitation, knocked on the door. The hinges creaked when the door was opened and an Oculatus agent peered at her through the crack, “What is it civilian?”

“I need to speak to the one you call Commander Maro,” she said. The agent had no helmet on so she could clearly see the curiosity in his eyes.

“What for elf?”

Estina pursed her lips, not wanting to play a game of cat and mouse, “I’m here on Dark Brotherhood business.”

The agent’s eyes widened and he didn’t question her further, he opened the door allowing her entrance. She saw the man who she assumed was Maro as he stood, hunched, over battle plans. He turned sharply to her, blocking her view of the red and blue flags, “What is it citizen?”

“A guard sent me to tell you that I killed a member of the Dark Brotherhood,” she said for the umpteenth time that day, Hopefully Maro wouldn’t send her on another wild dragon chase because she wouldn’t be able to handle her irritation any longer.

His eyes widened and he leaned towards her, “You did _what?_ Who? Which one?”

Estina blinked and took a small step back, she could smell the rabbit’s leg on his breath and didn’t take kindly to strangers breathing down her throat, “There wasn’t much identification. It was a women, she had blond hair and was a Nord if that helps.”

Maro raked a hand through his hair, “By the gods… that was their leader! Their leader Astrid, it has to be! How long I have watched the Dark Brotherhood’s movements, waiting for a time to strike, oh ho that time is now! Listen, my agents have recently acquired the passphrase to their sanctuary, it’s “Silence, my brother,” every assassin in there must be put down.”

Estina shifted her weight onto one leg, “You’re not thinking of sending _me_ in there are you?” she asked incredulously. Sure she was a fighter, sure she was (still) the Dragonborn, but after running around all of Skyrim she would much rather go home, retrieve her cowl, and sleep until the dragons die out on their own.

“Well you, my friend, you’ve slain their leader. This honor to end the madness that is the Dark Brotherhood should belong to you. Do this and you will be rewarded quite handsomely.” He smiled at her and when his lingering gaze started to bother the wood elf she turned and fled out the door.

Of course, of course she started this chain of events so it was by all rights her job to finish it. Then again, Maro could just be a colossal wuss and not want his men going in there because they might die or something else that happens naturally in this day and age.

Because gods forgive she do anything for herself.

Estina shook the thought from her head and was two paces away from the dragon shaped bridge when she realized she had no idea where the sanctuary was. Turning around she was ready to storm back into the outpost but found that the Penitus Oculatus agent had been standing directly behind her the whole time.

“Oh! Uh… we didn’t tell you-”

She waved a hand frivolously, “Just spit it out.”

“It is located west of Falkreath. Have you been there?”

“Many a times,” she lied. She had never stepped foot in Falkreath once in her life, luckily however it was located rather obviously on her map. She needed to go there for some business anyway, what she couldn’t remember at the moment but it didn’t matter much to her, she had a cult to wipe out.

Estina turned heel and decided to make her way to Whiterun despite it being in the opposite direction of her intended destination. She first needed to retrieve her poison resistant cowl and then her _not_ so poison resistant horse.

She arrived by the last rays of light and by then had long decided to put aside yet another quest for tomorrow. The Brotherhood wasn’t going anywhere. When she walked through the gates she ignored the chatter of the guards and the “Welcome Dragonborn,” and headed straight home. Thank the gods it was the second building from the gate, nice and close.

Lydia wasn’t home when she walked in and this time she took a moment to stuff some food into her mouth. She hadn’t eaten anything but health and stamina potions on the road and that paled horribly in comparison to Lydia’s expert cooking.

There were days where she could go weeks without sleep and little to no food, why she wasn’t sure but she did know that currently the soft lull of the moon was getting to her and she needed rest.

Estina fell upon the mattress but could not find immediate rest. The Dark Brotherhood had captured her so easily, she was actually almost… _afraid_ to go to sleep. It was clear these people didn’t honor fair fights so she was actually worried that they’d sneak up on her and slit her throat in the middle of the night.

Despite the danger, she felt kind of… excited. She hadn’t felt this type of fear and wonderment since the day she was to be executed. It was all that man’s fault, the one who killed her mother. If he hadn’t kidnapped her and tried to smuggle her across all of Tamriel then maybe she would’ve been able to find him and kill him in payback for what he did to her family.

She shook her head, angry. She couldn’t die, not now. She had to finish her duties before she joined those in Sovngarde.

She tossed and turned, recklessly throwing her sheets to and fro. Before she knew it morning came, bright sunlight streaming in through the hallway windows. She groaned, she did not feel rested at all, at least not mentally. She knew then that the only way to ease her mind would be to finish her business with the Dark Brotherhood.

So thinking Estina stood, flinching when she heard a loud rip in her armor. She glanced at the uneven patch in the leather and mentally scolded herself for not removing it earlier. She unzipped her ruined garment and folded it neatly on her bed. Going to her cabinet she remembered, much to her irritation, that her only spare set of armor here was her Thieves’ guild cuirass. She had left the ebony mail in Markarth.

Estina groaned, she didn’t want to make a special trip to Markarth just for some other armor that she probably wouldn’t like nearly as much as her Nightingale armor. Anyway, there was a forge right next door, she could just patch it up… oh but that took time. She groaned and slapped on the tight, unused leather armor before storming out the door.

Adrianne was sharpening a steel sword against the grinder when she approached, “Adrianne,” she said frankly, “I’m heading off soon so in the meantime could you fix this up for me?” she handed the blacksmith the cuirass and the void salts.

“Okay… but why the salts? I thought you already upgraded this to as far as it will go.”

Estina cleared the uncomfortable lump in her throat, “I did but I’ve found that using them improves the durability. Plus I have pounds of the stuff so it wouldn’t hurt to get rid of some of them.” Much less could be said about her dragon bones and scales.

Adrianne pinched her nose, “Very well. I hope you don’t expect I do this for free though.”

Estina pulled out her coin purse and handed the blacksmith one hundred septims and one of her plentiful garnets, “I’ll pay you the other half when I return.”

She turned to leave and as she did she could’ve sworn she heard her say “If you return…” in a solemn voice. With her status and lack of intelligence in going headfirst into battle, she could easily believe that she did, in fact, hear Adrianne say those words.

Estina left Whiterun in a hurry. Mounting her steed and setting off for Falkreath.

*******

The journey was long but not nearly as long as she thought it would be. She rode her horse hard and fast the entirety of the way, only stopping to rest every so often and to allow her horse to drink from the bank they wandered along.

 She passed Falkreath, going west as she had been instructed, after some time all she came across was a dilapidated ruin. She was about to keep going when the sound of a soft beating heart resounded in her ears.

 No words or bird-like chatter came to her this time but she was starting to get weary of this odd sensation that continued to happen. Her horse trotted a few steps away according to her direction and the sound beat sharply in her ears.

In the frenzied aftermath of the sound she jerked the reins, causing her steed to turn and rush forward. He galloped at full pace until he came to a small cliff only a few feet high but the sudden disappearance of land caused the beast to halt, vaulting Estina over his head and onto the ground below.

She landed on her back, groaning and feeling the sharp tip of her dagger digging into her skin. She sat up quickly and used a restoration spell to heal her now very sore back so she could at least stand up.

She turned to glare angrily at her horse though he could care less, “Why you-” an odd shade of grey caught her attention and she turned her gaze upon a heavy looking metal door with a skull etched on the front. The door was set deep into the stone and as she walked up to it she didn’t even notice that the heartbeat had stopped.

When she got close enough an eerie voice that sounded like steel being crunched in the large maw of a dragon said, “What… it the music… of life?” in a breathy voice.

Estina blinked, “Uh… wait uh, oh I remember, Silence my brother?”

“Welcome… home… sister.” the door popped open, revealing a dark stone staircase that led into a cave. Cautiously she pulled out her blade and started her slow descent. A breeze blew against her bare arms, irritating her, at least her Nightingale armor kept her entire body covered and warm. Why couldn’t Brynjolf have given her the same armor set as Vex? It would have provided more coverage.

Even though she was crawling as silently as possible, someone still managed to hear her footsteps, “Who’s there?”

Before she had time to register where the voice was coming from a scimitar was slicing through the air in front of her face. She looked up to see a man who looked to be a Redguard. She ducked as he swung again and the second time he got a little too close for comfort. Estina did a graceful flip backwards, landing on her feet and twirling away as he lunged forward. For once she was grateful for all the acrobat lessons her mother had forced her to take.

The Redguard let out a stunned gasp as she used her Thu’um to rush forward and embed her poisoned sword deep in his gut.

When he was good and dead she pushed him off her blade and he fell to the ground with a heavy thump, “You won’t get away with that!” she turned, frantically looking for the voice once more but this time could not see a thing.

Something sharp sliced across her collarbone, whomever it was had aimed for her throat, a choice move if she had to say. She could not physically see her opponent, which worried her slightly but her hearing senses were honed enough that she could hear irregular breathing and the slightest scuff of a shoe against the dirt.

Half a minute later her enemy appeared before her very eyes, confirming her suspicions of an invisibility elixir.

The Brotherhood member was an Argonian who hissed as she shouted as loud as she could, **_“IZZ SLEN NUS.”_** The lizard man flew back, now a hard chunk of ice. He flew back into a wall that she noticed had a word of power glowing softly upon it.

The ice around the Argonian shattered and he sat there shivering, his cold blood not agreeing with the ice. Before he could regain his consciousness Estina’s blade made its way through yet another chest.

“Veezara!” Estina let out a light gasp of pain as the tip of a sword sliced a deep gash into her left arm. She fell to one knee and rolled away from what appeared to be a Dunmer beneath her large hood, “Who do you think you are?” she yelled.

Estina’s voice felt cold and stiff from using ice form and it would be like that for another few moments. Currently she was trying to put as much distance between herself and the assassin when yet another made his appearance. An older, much older, man appeared from the shadows and blocked her path, “Festus, kill her!” the elder now identified as Festus pulled his dagger from its hilt and got into a defensive stance.

His gaze traveled around her and she knew he was looking at the dead body of his ally. He bared his teeth and Estina stood, trying to regain some of her dignity when a howl erupted from the far side of the cave.

Everyone turned and Estina only had moments to register that a werewolf was barreling towards her.

_Why by the gods is there a fucking werewolf here. No one told me anything!_ She thought bitterly as his claws sliced into her.

Unlike how she thought, her body was not ripped to shreds. In fact, in her panic she had accidentally summoned a storm Atronach. Lighting arched across the sanctuary and the wolf was soon nothing but a charred corpse on the wall, his dried blood pinning him up in a sitting position. She remembered her stolen mages hood, and figured it had something to do with her burst in unused magic power. Maybe she would use the thing more often.

Smirking, Estina’s confidence returned. It had been a long while since she summoned a helper, her magic wasn’t the best but at least she could say she was better than someone like J’Zargo who was pretty good at what he does but was often times more bark than bite.

The Atronach decided to go after the girl so she decided upon the elder. The man hardly seemed fazed at her summon and dodged her onslaught of slices. He countered her blades with his tiny dagger but with one hard power attack she managed to break through his defenses and the sharp blade sunk into his neck and sliced cleanly all the way through.

Silence filled her ears and she turned to see that everyone around her was dead as per usual. To make sure she had killed everyone, she searched the surrounding rooms, at first she found no one but in the last room a child was crouched down by a bed.

“Help!” she cried, “I’ve been kidnapped by the Dark Brotherhood, are you here to save me?”

“I-” the girl leapt from the floor, running into her arms. This was the second time a child has hugged her. What would the Brotherhood want with a child? She wondered. It seemed as though they had been ignoring Aventus yet this little girl was here kicking and screaming, could they have been… _using_ her?

No, they were assassins, they made a living off killing, nothing more nothing less.

“I need to tell you something,” the girl pulled Estina from her thoughts, curling her finger to indicate that she should come closer. She watched the oddly precise movement the girl made but began to lean down nonetheless.

 All she saw was a flash of red eyes and white teeth before a sharp pain was on her neck. Estina winced and groaned at the same time, of course there had to be vampires. Nothing was complete without vampires.

While she felt bad about killing the image of a little girl, she knew this was no ordinary child and chances were she was much older than Estina would ever hope to be. With her fangs still latched onto her neck, sucking at her vitals, she pulled her blade from its sheath and thrust it forward for the last time that day.

The girl fell away for a moment to avoid the blade, grinning a bloody smile and charging towards her with tremendous speed. Estina moved her sword in a tight half circle, the ebony flashing just before it hit the vampire’s neck and going through for one last decapitation.

Now dead, her body turned to ash and Estina stood, glad it was over for now.

She wiped the sweat from her brow and started to stand but a sharp pain halted her movements. She had forgotten her wounds in the moments of adrenaline, the wolf had gotten her, rather bad really, and she quickly used her restoration spells and downed her last three health potions, even going as far as to use the White Phial in her desperate attempt to put some life back into her.

“I will _not_ die here,” she said through gritted teeth and slowly made her way out of the sanctuary. As she walked she glanced around quickly for any extra coin, collected the word of power, and took a cure disease potion she found lying on the shelf. When she was done she walked outside into the chilly night air, leaving the door open to the world. She forced herself up onto her horse and gently nudged him towards Dragon Bridge. She wanted to get as far away from here as possible, and soon.

Her body ached with each trot from the horse but even that felt much better than walking. Soon she felt herself dozing off, hoping her horse would follow the right path.


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

Empty.

Gone.

Dead.

All of them.

Cicero had hoped… oh he had hoped so much but now… yet another, the last! The last sanctuary has fallen. Who did it this time? Was it the same as the last two? Or did someone else hold a grudge? Whomever it was rather powerful, the ability to cast magic and slit throats was talent indeed. Especially against well-seasoned assassins.

“Oh mother… your crypt,” he whined. Upon his first arrival he had managed to drag the heavy metal coffin to the entrance but he would need help transferring it inside, especially when he saw the stairs.

When Cicero entered the sanctuary the fresh scent of blood hit his senses dead on, he figured there must have been a recent kill, but he didn’t know the blood belonged to his new brothers and sisters.

Even their little unchild Babette was beheaded and left to rot. Oddly enough her head remained intact, rolled into a corner, but her body was ashier than a fireplace. His eyes watered a bit but he did not dare to shed a single tear. Not again. The pretender Astrid was nowhere in sight and the old man was deader than his ancestors.

This had been his last hope.

He was the only obedient follower left of the Night Mother! He was the only one, and he could keep for mother easily enough but who would be there to compliment his tending? Who would be there to listen for contracts? Once of course she chooses a Listener, but then oh what? If he only keeps and does not look then there will be no one to listen and no blood to glisten!

Oh dear, whatever shall he do now? He was in such a mess, even worse than being stuck near the Loreius farm for a week. And not only that but mother was outside, in the elements! He had to get her in on his own, or at least transport her somewhere safe where she will quietly lay until he can resolve this issue.

What a mess!

Cicero’s foot slipped in his train wreck of thoughts, coating the sole with thick lycan blood, he grimaced and did his best to wipe it off on the stones as he walked.

“Poor Cicero only knew your names and descriptions, he never even got to speak with his new family! All gone just like last time, oh it must be a curse, a curse! The Cicero curse…” A quiet whine escaped his lips as he plopped down at the table further into the sanctuary. He rested his head in his hand and pouted at the walls for a good twenty minutes before standing and hastily making his way back to mother.

“Oh mother, Cicero will have to leave you somewhere safe, but where? Where can he possibly put dear sweet mother where the nasty killer won’t come and defile her?” Cicero let himself think and the seriousness was pulling him back to a reality he hadn’t felt in a long time. He felt a sense of himself before mother gave him the laughter, he could feel it clawing at the surface of his mind, biting and screaming and begging to see the light again. Then the clouds came back and the strangely clarifying madness set in stronger than ever before.

He chuckled darkly to himself and climbed back into the carriage, “Cicero, crazy? That’s madness…” He tugged at the reigns and the obedient horse began to trot back in the direction they had just come from. A little ways up the road he knew of a place in Falkreath, somewhere that would keep mother safe for the time being.

While she could not speak to him directly, he felt oddly in tune with her otherwise lifeless body. He could feel a hum in the air, a warmth that he knew only she gave off. And while she could not, in fact, speak to him something was telling him to hunt down the one that had caused this chaos. He was over the slaughtering of his family for the third time. Death was a fact of his life that would follow him forever, and he had not always been this joyous fool, oh no, Cicero’s dagger had been buried to the hilt in several enemies and he shall see to it that it finds one last mark before he dies. In his excitement to kill again he lashed at the reins, forcing his steed to neigh and go faster.

While he rode back into town the Night Mother in her silent coffin was watching elsewhere. Her sunken and closed eyes were fixated on the Dragonborn, watching the child with curiosity and a bit of admiration. She had led her to her faithful yet unfaithful family, knowing full well what her listener was about to do. She did nothing to stop her. If this was the path she desired to follow then so be it. She has been long dead, she had no more concerns for human beings who abandoned the old ways. All they needed was her and all she needed was her Keeper and her Listener.

She could hear her soft heartbeat, see through her red eyes. She was infected with the little vampire’s blood but she could see her taking yet another cure disease potion. She was a Bosmer and her kind were naturally more immune to such things so the incident hardly fazed her. The Night Mother knew her child craved more out of life, that things were coming to a standstill, more problems were being solved and less people to cause them.

Her listener needed something to keep her busy and by the name of her husband Sithis she was the one for her. The unholy matron watched from afar as the wood elf slept upon her horse as he trotted along the road. Her arms swinging carelessly back and forth as she rested. When she sensed the girl’s presence she knew something was special about her, she wasn’t sure why since in the end she had so carelessly murdered the other Dark Brotherhood members but what was that compared to the death of her five children?

Still though, she wanted her to be her Listener.

First though, first she needed to listen. The Night Mother would speak to her when she is ready but until then she will watch the fun play out, there would soon be a fun little game between her Listener and her Keeper.

Cicero pulled the wagon up to a little shack that was buried halfway into the ground. He had passed it on his way up here and after some searching found a key under a broken pot. The place was empty he was sure, the dust that had settled upon the cabinets was like a warm blanket and after some maneuvering and stirring of the dust the Night Mother was finally settled for the time being.

“Cicero is sorry poor mother but he can feel the need to go after the killer. He needs to find her, and he thinks it’s you telling him to do so. Humble Cicero will be back, you were well oiled this morning, so mother should be okay for a few days…” Cicero pursed his lips and his hand gripped the hilt of his ebony dagger. He worried for his unholy matron. What if he didn’t return in time? What if he didn’t return at all? No, no he couldn’t think like that. Not when she was so clearly telling him to go after this murderer.

“Cicero will be back,” he said softly before going out the door and closing it gently. A couple of thoughts danced around in his mad mind, thoughts of death, of him wondering if he really would make it back. A cold smile stretched across his thin lips, it has been a long time since Cicero had worried about something as trivial as dying. He has killed many in his life and line of work, so why was this one so different? As faithful Cicero locked the door tightly and stuffed the key deep into his chest pocket a vision of him lying dead on the ground in a pool of his own blood flashed through his mind. He let out a short snort of a laugh, not like in his normal jovial tone for it sounded the way a smirk looks on a face, arrogant.

“Let them come, let them come!” he shouted to the wind before unhooking the horse from the wagon and hopping on, “Cicero will find out who did this. Cicero will know the truth.” He shook his finger in the air as if chastising a small child and with a whip of the reins he was off.

*******

“Hello? Miss? Are you okay?” Estina’s eyes fluttered open and focused in on the face of a random soldier of the Penitus Oculatus, only being able to recognize him from his outfit. She bolted upwards and nearly fell off her stead as the events from earlier that day came rushing back to her.

She shook her head and dragged a hand across her face, “The deed is done, the Brotherhood is no more,” she spat out before hopping off and landing on the ground with a soft thud.

The agent looked up at her with big eyes full of what she assumed was admiration and a tinge of fear, “Y-you did? Really? That’s marvelous! Oh, come, come let me take you to Commander Maro right away!” The excited agent walked briskly back to their post, not really bothering to check behind to see if she was still following him.

He burst through the door, immediately depriving Estina the egotistical satisfaction of announcing the news herself to Commander Maro, “The Brotherhood is dead!”

Maro jumped a little before looking up from a map marked with hundreds of little flags, as the information sunk in a smile suddenly spread across his thin lips,“That’s… remarkable! Do you have any idea how long we’ve been trying to destroy the Dark Brotherhood? Too long, that’s for sure. Here’s your reward as promised!” Maro handed her a large coin purse and she weighed in her hands.

It felt like a rather generous amount and she smirked, feeling satisfied that she would be able to go home and have a good nap, with lots of gold to boot. She was rather relieved they hadn’t decided to pay her in gems or weapons, or worst of all praise. None of those things she could turn in for a suitable amount of coin. Jewelers never had enough to buy more than two garnets and smiths would only take about three swords a month. She pocketed the coin in hopes of keeping it safe until she returned.

No one knew, but she wanted desperately to move to Solitude, the streets were always clean and the people would be able to tolerate her. She had broken into the house that had happened to be on sale and the place was huge. She could just imagine all of the empty space being filled with her junk that she would surely collect over the years.

Estina turned to go, ready to leave when a soft voice whisper in her ear, _“The first sstep to forgivness from me iss retribution my child. Kill thesse insolent foolss for your mother.”_ It sounded like a woman's voice, it was raspy and completely evil but Estina didn’t mind evil. She was never one to turn down a good bloodbath, and the more people who came the more fun she had.

But killing the leader of the Penitus Oculatus? She must really be desperate to kill again if she wanted a bounty that high. Still though, her hand reached for her sword. She stood there, mulling over her options, when a voice startled her. She turned and instead of listening to the man she stared directly at the agent’s jugular.

His Adam’s apple bounced as he talked and the sound of soft chimes sang in her ears. She turned away, she knew what was going to happen next. This foreign voice was going to take control and she would be in a terrible mess, for once she didn’t want to kill. She had just successfully taken down a large and deadly organization, her name would spread like wildfire and be just as deadly.

She tried to think of anything else. She tried to force her arm back down to her sides. For a moment she heard a couple of words from the agent and all he was doing was singing her words of praise which he thought she was listening to and that the look on her face was her trying to hold back joyous tears. The pained look on Estina’s face was in fact her trying to hold back but she was only so strong.

Alongside the chimes a heavy voice started to hum low in a tune with her rapidly beating heart, using it as her metronome. Another heartbeat rang next to her own only much slower and somehow the sound calmed her. She felt her body and mind fall into the disillusion of being comforted and wrapped in a mother’s tender embrace and her knees wobbled. The exhaustion from previous events was catching up on her and she felt ready to sink to the floor and sleep through winter. The agent’s voice only added to the lullaby and as he continued to talk and she stared blankly at him.

She felt some of the sounds recede and she thought she had regained control but with the blink of her eyes it happened. Her swords were buried to the hilt in the agent’s chest, piercing cleanly through his armor. He gave a weak, startled cry for help before slipping off her blade and letting gravity take him to the ground and landing with a wet smack.

Commander Maro unsheathed his weapon in an instant, charging at her, sword raised, without a thought to spare. Before his arm could bring down his blade she had shouted him across the room and pinned him to the wall with a spare dagger lying on the table. He was dead within seconds. The thrill of the feel of blood on her hands excited her, soon though it dissipated into nothingness and she was left feeling rather pissed off. Pissed at herself, at the mess, at life, but most importantly at that voice.

What was it about that voice that rose her bloodlust to unimaginable heights? How did it have the power to control her so easily? Was it another divine trying to get her to do its will? She shook her head, looted the fresh corpses, and ran out before anyone could know what she had done. She hopped onto her horse and raced across Dragon Bridge.

The sun slipped below the horizon and she forced her horse to sprint all the way back to Whiterun. Lydia was still not home when she arrived. And Adrianne had not finished with her armor, she was out when Estina arrived home and the Wood elf knew she would not get to it until she paid her the rest. She complied without a word and went home. Her horse was safely in the Whiterun stables and when she fell onto the bed she gladly let her hood fall off to reveal her face. She fell asleep in less than half a second, not bothering to worry about her half healed wounds that slowly began to open and trickle out a small pool of blood onto her bed sheets.

*******

Since the beginning of Cicero’s time with the Brotherhood he could clearly remember when everyone was happy and killing without a care in the world. He could remember when he had been recruited, when the Brotherhood was flourishing and richer than a gold rush. He scowled as he searched about the sanctuary once more, examining all the bodies and the marks for any possible sign of who had done this.

He knew Astrid was gone, but he didn’t know where to. He figured there wasn’t much of a chance that she was still alive after he found a piece of paper that read, “ _Coming for you. Astrid is dead.”_ The letters were hurried and rushed, as if someone had hurried to write and send this letter to the Brotherhood as fast as possible. It gave him some brief hope that that someone may still be alive, but it might have been a Watcher who looked for contracts and kept an out for the Brotherhood from the shadows.

Cicero folded the note and slide it in a spare pocket he had by his left thigh. He didn’t need it, but somehow having the note gave him sort of comfort in figuring out who killed his family. Cicero continued to rummage through a stack of papers. He found a drawer full of files and other paperwork that he figured was useless. He went through them by date, mostly looking at the more recent files until he found one that caught his eye.

It read, _“Grelod the Kind is dead. Killed by an amateur. There is little information of the one who did it, but we are aware that she is a female Bosmer, usually resides in Whiterun in the Breezehome residence. Find her, capture her, and give her a choice.”_

The note was signed by the one named Nazir. His tight signature confirmed by a bloody handprint. Cicero looked around but he wouldn’t have been able to pin the man, for some of the bodies were unrecognizable. A sense of satisfaction washed over him, he at least had a general idea of where he should go next. Perhaps this mysterious female has something to do with the death of his family. Maybe, if he was lucky, she was the one who caused this new discord in his life. His finger itched to use his dagger, to shred the killer of killers to pieces.

He felt awfully excited to kill again.

It had been such a long time, all of it spent on keeping up with Mother. But he had to do this. He had to avenge his family he never met. Something was telling him to. Cicero had found all that he needed and he felt his grin stretching so wide he thought his face would split. He skipped outside and had one foot on the saddle of his horse when a gurgling sound reached his ears.

He looked around for the source, wondering if one of his family members was still alive and choking on their own blood. He hopped off and searched frantically for the source. He could hear it coming from his left and as he neared the noise became louder. Peaking around a bare bush he saw a black puddle, the water dancing and tossing furiously. An object began to appear from the murky mud. The object began to take shape and glowing red eyes stared into Cicero’s as a horse the color of the darkest nights formed from the abyss.

“Oh Shadowmere,” Cicero purred softly, petting the horses long mane, “I’ve heard of you in the letters. Have you come to help me avenge the Brotherhood?” Shadowmere whinnied and the jester smirked happily, jumping on without a thought, “I thought so.” He gave a wild shout as the horse took off immediately, neighing and bucking as he raced through the trees towards Whiterun.

Cicero could feel his blood pumping in his ears and felt a sudden liveliness that brought him to a sense of normality. He urged Shadowmere to go a little bit faster. The day went by in a timely fashion. For the majority of the ride his thoughts were focused on his plan to find and execute the assassin of assassin’s. Halfway there Cicero was stopped by an odd amount of commotion and traffic. He hadn’t taken the long way around, he did go over Falkreath and he had been weaving his way through the mountain valleys when he came across a grouping of people blocking off the path to another road. He wanted to go the other way, to follow the sign that pointed towards Whiterun, but the men stopped him.

“Halt stranger, what brings you this way?”

Cicero pursed one side of his lips and readjusted his weight on Shadowmere, “Actually I was going the other way.” His voice was light, meant for merrymaking, but the men’s frowns only deepened. He took notice of their uniforms and briefly remembered a lesson from one of the old Brotherhood members. These were Penitus Oculatus agents, but what where they doing here?

“Step aside jester. I don’t care which way you’re going, Due to the sudden death of Commander Maro we aren’t letting anyone through.” Cicero pouted in a friendly manner but inside his heart was racing, a commander? Dead? Who did it, oh low and behold who did it!

“Oh but Humble Cicero was just going to visit lovely Whiterun.” _That skeever infested dragon breath of a town._

The men scowled, “Get out of here,” they repeated a little more sternly this time.

Cicero shaped his face into a dejected look, “May poor Cicero asked who deed the deed of ending… uh your poor Commander’s life?”

The agents face softened ever so slightly, “Commander Maro was found stabbed early this morning. We believe it was the same person who had been contracted to end…” his voice trailed off and Cicero ate up the words like a sweet roll, and tasting just as sugary.

“Please, continue,” he said in his sweetest tone.

The agent looked conflicted. On one hand it wasn’t like it was against any rules to tell the civilian, but at the same time this particular man made the agent feel unsettled and worried. Still though, he was asking for information he had and he was not one to deny him of that right. With a sigh he continued, he figured the word would get around somehow anyway, “The one to end the Dark Brotherhood. I never met her. But we were told she was wearing brown leather Thieves guild armor and a black hood.”

Thoughts ran through Cicero’s mind and he started to think up a person to add to this equation, “Why do you kindly strangers think it was her?”

“She was the last one to have entered the outpost.” He felt satisfied. And confused. Was this a free rogue? Who was this mysterious girl?

Cicero licked his lips. He couldn’t wait to find out, “Humble Cicero will be on his way.”

The agent fumbled with his words, “Wait we aren’t allowed to let anyone through!” Cicero felt his last nerve snap, he wanted to avenge his family and so far the process was already taking too long. Without a moment of hesitation he dived off of Shadowmere, throwing a spare dagger in the process. The blackened horse reared and kicked his front legs before charging to knock down the offending opponents. He pulled his favorite ebony dagger from his side and slashed away with a wide grin.

From throat to throat he slice and stabbed and cut, his blade ever hungry for more blood. The bodies fell and soon at least thirty men fell before his feet. Shadowmere trotted over to him and he patted the horses head lovingly, “What a good horse!” he bellowed.

As he traveled on, hardly disturbed by the stupid agents bothering poor Cicero, he hummed to himself and several times wondered aloud about the one who had killed Maro. Surely she was strong to have ended two organizations in one day. He didn’t think the Oculatus would last long without their leader to hold their hands.

Finally, by Sithis finally, he made it. He could see the top of Dragonsreach peaking over the hilltops and soon the stone walls came into view. He slowed Shadowmere’s sprint to a trot and his hooves on the pathway created a rhythm for Cicero to hum to. As they went on he spotted a figure in the distance. As he drew nearer he could make out a short womanly shape and he started to go around her to avoid being seen when he noticed her armor.

She was wearing a Thieves guild cuirass. Could it be? Had he found his prey so soon? He looked around wearily, he saw no one else in sight, not even the Whiterun guards. This would be an easy kill, he could do it in a second. He looked at the woman, she had a slightly familiar bounce in her step but Cicero for the life of him couldn’t place where he had seen it.

As their paths came closer to passing he noticed her hood, it matched the description perfectly. He _tsk’d_ , for someone so special she should have at least had the decency to change into different armor.

He took his blade from his pocket, even with the element of surprise he somehow figured she would fight back, and be a good one at that. He felt his heart beating a mile a minute as they neared. His blood rushing in his ears, almost deafening him. He sent a quick thank you to Mother for letting him find the Brotherhood’s killer so soon and he speed up Shadowmere’s trot.

He was terribly excited to kill again.


	4. Chapter 4

**4**

Estina woke to a soft thud.

Ever since the Brotherhood had so easily captured her she found that she could never fully fall asleep. One eye and one ear was always listening for sounds.

She sat up, looked about, and grabbed her swords off her nightstand, not bothering to question when she put them there. She looked out the window and saw the sun beginning to set and wondered how long she had been asleep. She felt like a raised zombie with a splitting headache. Her loose coins and garnets jingled in one of her loose pockets and she forgot she was still wearing her Thieves guild cuirass, it had large folds that were good to stuff your pickpocketed goods in.

She hastily threw all of her wayward items on the bed and crept down the stairs. The fire crackled as she passed and when the door burst open she leapt forward with her swords raised and voice ready, “By Talos my Thane!”

Lydia shrieked and just barely dodged an ebony sword to the gut. Estina recognized the voice and immediately set her weapons aside, “Oh Lydia. You’ve returned.”

Lydia brushed some of her hair from her face, wild from her frantic movements, “Yes, my Thane. Please, what was that all about? I thought you were still asleep. When did you wake and what has you so jumpy?”

Estina always found it a little embarrassing and disturbing that Lydia almost always knew what she was thinking. Ever since the first day they met, she knew what was going on from a single glance even if her emotions were locked behind an iron safe.

The Bosmer turned away, ashamed she had almost split Lydia in half all because she was a little scared, “Nothing is wrong. I’m going back to bed.” She would never admit it, but secretly she was glad Lydia was still alive and kicking. There had been a few close calls but in the end Lydia was always alive to back her up. And while the housecarl wished to accompany the Dragonborn on her travels Estina preferred to go at it alone. There was much less pain and heartache in the end if only one person died.

“My Thane, you’ve been asleep for two days now. Perhaps you are tired from oversleeping, please stay up for a while. I was just about to make dinner.”

Estina began to protest, but her stomach rumbled all of Whiterun at the thought of food.

She smiled sheepishly and stretched her stiff body, “Alright… but I think I’ll go for a little walk first.”

Lydia sent her a small smile and nodded before moving further into the house. Estina felt her entire skeleton pop as she put her swords at her sides and walked out the door. Adrianne was out as she usually was most of the time and Estina asked if her armor was mended yet.

“Actually I just finished. You can pick it up whenever you like.”

Estina smiled, “Alright. I’m going for a walk so I’ll pick it up when I get back.” Adrianne sent her a smile that said “I’m glad you’re still alive.” The Wood elf tried to ignore the feelings of content blooming in her chest as she walked out of the Whiterun gates.

For the first time in a while she felt relaxed. Skyrim felt right for once and despite being the Dragonborn, and ending the life of the world eater, and being a Thane in all nine holds, well minus Riften. And being the dog of all the gods, the irritation that had built up was finally released as the breeze blew against her bare face. Maybe all she really needed was a good night’s sleep.

The sun was setting, and there had been no news of the deaths at the Penitus Oculatus outpost, or maybe because she was asleep it hadn’t reached her yet. Still, her guard was up. She didn’t know what was out here and waiting. Her thoughts left her head as she walked aimlessly down the road. She heard the sound of a horse approaching and looked to see a coal colored stallion coming towards her.

The definite color was a little hard to tell in the setting sun but the red eyes that glowed were easy to spot. The eyes sent a chill through her and she looked up at the rider. She was surprised to see Cicero sitting atop the horse, a deadly smile drawn across his face.

She opened her mouth to say something, he would probably recognize her as soon as she spoke. She raised her head towards him when he gracefully leapt from the dark horse. She saw a tiny glint reflect the fading sunlight and she dived away as he struck the ground.

“It’s you, it’s you!” he said in a sing-song voice, “Cicero is most positive it is you who killed his family.”

“What?” Estina didn’t have time to process his accusation or think of who could possibly be related to this somewhat insane man as he came at her again. She pulled her sword from her holster and ebony clashed with ebony in bright sparks.

The brief moment of light illuminated Cicero’s eyes, showing her the truly mad look in his face as he pushed his dagger closer to her. As they fought she was a little surprised he had harbored such strength. When they first met he seemed average under his loose clothing but now she could feel just how seasoned this man was.

She considered shouting, using her voice to push him off but as she readied her Thu’um with a deep breath a cacophony of sound played without warning. The noise startled her and her guard slipped as Cicero pushed her to the ground. His blade nicked her cheek as she rolled, and she was trying her best to avoid his slices with the distracting sound in her head.

Estina swung her sword and got him on the left arm, he made no indication that he felt it and rushed for her. For the first time in her life, she panicked. For once the sounds were not making her feel the need to kill, but instead the need to recede, to run away and hide from this madman.

She didn’t want to comply but as Cicero crashed into her and sat on her hips, holding her arms above her head and breathing warm breath onto her face she had no choice but to sit there and look into his black eyes.

The song in her head quieted some as she remained still under the jester. His lips curled into a devastating smile that sent an oddly satisfying sensation flowing through her. She never thought a maniac could look so peaceful, “Any last words sweet assassin?”

Before she could do or say or ask anything the voice that made her kill the agent returned. This time however, it was soft and peaceful, taking the tone of a stern mother, _“Tell my Keeper that Darkness rises when silence dies.”_ Her voice remained silent. She refused to let this voice control her any longer, even if it meant dying right here and now.

Cicero smirked then pouted, “Nothing? You’re no fun.”

_“Tell him now.”_ The voice was much darker now, demanding that she say these words. Estina bit down so hard on her tongue that she tasted iron.

Her mind was screaming anything to shut out the voice but the voice screamed louder, rattling in her head. She gritted her bloody teeth as she readied herself for her untimely death but the voice seemed to leap from her mind to her throat without her consent and as Cicero brought the dagger down the words flew out in a flurry of fear and hesitance, “Darkness rises when silence dies!”

The blade stopped just above her jugular.

Estina was breathing hard and heavy and her eyes were as wide as the pale moon in the sky. She looked at Cicero. His crazed gaze melted into confusion and the tip of the blade pressed into her skin, “What did you say?” his voice was just barely above a whisper.

Estina’s heartbeat was slowed by the voices own and she let it speak through her, “Darkness rises when silence dies,” she repeated. Cicero stood to get off her but his knees went weak and he fell to the dirt path. A few pebbles dug into his skin but he didn't even notice the sharp pain. Estina sat up quickly, inhaling air greedily. She hadn't realized how suffocated she was until his weight was gone. She glanced at him for a brief moment, the only sound in her head now was her own heartbeat and she wondered how the voice knew just what to say to him.

“How could you…” his voice trailed off and he looked up at her. His eyes were watery and full of wonderment and confusion, “How could you…?” he repeated a little louder as he stood as got onto his knees and faced the questioning elf.

Suddenly he started laughing.

It was a fast paced maniacal laughter and it started so out of the blue and at such a high pitch that Estina actually jumped a little. He rolled over onto the ground, his voice ringing in her ears as he laughed at his own private joke.

She thought she could hear light chuckles in the back of her mind and with the added voice somehow she began to laugh too, feeling a slight drunken buzz she hadn’t felt in a long time. She smiled for the first time in years and laughed and laughed until her sides hurt. She inhaled and reached for purchase as she tittered away.

When their giddiness came to a halt Estina opened her watery eyes to wipe away the tears. She hadn’t laughed like that in, well, ever. Her early years had been full of work and the building of a strong reputation. It was a solitary and quiet life, until that man came. Her smile fell.

She looked over and jumped away upon realization that she had been leaning against the very man that had just tried to kill her. Realization crashed down on her and the humor was completely gone from her mind. Finally she found her words and her raspy voice came out in random pitches, “What was so funny?”

Cicero giggled some more, “I can’t believe Mother would choose you. You,” he frowned and he looked old like the day the two had first met, “you killed poor Cicero’s family. His Brotherhood. He knows you did. He can feel it when he looks at you.”

The words struck a chord deep inside her. Her lips parted and she drew her legs to her chest. After hearing this new information all she could manage out was an, “Oh…”

His eyes lit up a little, “So you admit it was you, yes?”

She nodded, not quite feeling guilty. She felt conflicted yes but more confused than anything else. What did he mean by _“Mother chose me?”_

He scooted a little closer to her and she was about to move away but his hand on her elbow stopped her, “But at least you killed those filthy agents?” his eyes were wide and he now looked like a little child receiving the biggest secret in the world.

Estina smiled a little. Those deaths meant nothing to her, except maybe a high bounty but otherwise she could care less about them, “Yes. They probably deserved it though.”

Cicero let out a sharp laugh before lying his head on her shoulder. She felt uncomfortable at this closeness but the night was growing darker and her arms colder. She leaned into his heat unconsciously.

“Cicero is… um,” he seemed at a loss for words. From the corner of her eye she could see the struggle for words clearly written on his face, “sorry for trying to kill his Listener. He had no idea.”

Estina looked down at him fully. In the moonlight his shining eyes were reflecting the glowing blue hue of the sky, “What are you talking about?”

Cicero removed himself from her personal space and she shivered. Usually she was sitting by a warm fire by now not out in the middle of the night, “The Listener does not know her place? Well Cicero supposes it’s alright for now… our Mother, the Night Mother, has chosen you to carry out her will. Those words you spoke, those were the binding words.” He smiled as he talked about this prestigious title to Estina to which the Bosmer stared back in disbelief.

A spark of irritation flew through her, “Are you serious? Another fucking divine chose me to do their will? What, did the gods get together and have a fucking meeting to decide on one person? No! I will not recreate the Brotherhood, why would this “Night Mother” choose me if I destroyed her entire organization in the first place?”

Estina stood so quick that her hood fell back. Cicero, for a mere moment, was blinded by her ferocity. As she towered over him angrily, her black hair splayed and frizzy, her even pale skin almost sparkling, and her eyes. Oh her blood colored eyes. Cicero gulped heavily, this was no ordinary woman, and he appreciated that.

Suddenly the jester was face down on the ground. He blinked before noticing the throbbing pain in his jaw, his Listener had either hit him or kicked him. He was, in a weird way, fine with this.

He looked up at her again, somehow finding that all of his anger had been resolved. All the irritation he had felt for the one who killed his family, and all the pain that had suddenly burst out from going through yet another fall of a Brotherhood sanctuary, was gone.

He wondered if this was the real intention of the Night Mother. Had she known that meeting the Listener, the one who ended the last sanctuary, would make things right again?

Estina pursed her lips and backed away from the madman. Feeling a bit worried that he hadn’t reacted at all after she had punched him with all of her might, which for the record was no pat on the cheek. She felt so terribly angry, the need to shout and cause destruction hit her so greatly that she actually laughed a little. The anger crushed her and she fell to her knees.

Why couldn’t there be one god, just one, who had decided to choose a different champion? She watched as Cicero stood and brushed the dirt from his pants. He sighed, “Humble Cicero lives to serve. And he shall serve his Listener until she is ready to go.”

He pushed some of his red hair back as he reached down for his hat that had gotten knocked off in all the excitement. He sent her a soft smile and suddenly took her hand in his, “Don’t worry sweet Listener. You’ll come around soon.”

Estina pulled her hand away. She stared him down and realized from the look in his eyes that he had no idea who she was. He probably thought she was someone completely different from the girl he met on the road a few days ago. She pulled her hood back up and started walking.

She hoped he wouldn’t follow, but he did.

“What do you want?” she asked harshly as she picked up her newly repaired armor, Adrianne giving them both a strange look but was ignored. Cicero had abandoned his misty horse where he stood and walked with her to wherever she chose to go.

“Now that Cicero knows who the Listener is he can’t let her go!”

She felt irritated, but she was tired and hungry. The argument could come later when her head was clear, “Whatever.” Then she pursed her lips as curiosity set in, “By chance, do you even remember me?” the question had been brewing in her mind since she saw him on the horse a little while ago.

Cicero pouted, “Poor Cicero is sorry dear Listener, but he can’t remember every face he sees, especially the ones that are still attached to a living body.”

Estina let out a huff, “That’s unfortunate.” She reached up a hand and ran it through her hair, being fully reminded that she didn’t have her mask on. That was probably why he hadn’t recognized her at first glance.

The duo entered her small home and Lydia jumped about ten feet in the air when her Thane walked in bleeding and battered, and with a strange man.

Her eyes widened as she stopped chopping the cabbage, “M-my Thane?” For some reason, Estina wanted to laugh. She had never heard Lydia stutter before.

“Don’t mind him. He’s just a fool,” she immediately went upstairs to which Cicero followed but she slammed the door shut just before he could enter her bedroom. She changed quickly and efficiently. She felt whole again with her familiar Nightingale armor. The leather rubbed against her skin soothingly and she immediately began to warm.

She walked out of the room, soothing down the wrinkled edges and nearly ran straight into Cicero. Putting on her favorite armor made her forget he was even there. He stared at her, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly. Under her cowl Estina smirked, “Recognize me now?”      

The jester tilted his head as he tried to recall her. A blank look filled his face as he tried to recall the memory of where and when they met. Suddenly realization sprang to his eyes and he clapped once before loudly proclaiming, “The kindly stranger from the road!” Cicero pouted once more and this time Estina was able to see his full face in the candle light. Despite the fact that he was a grown man pouting, she somehow found the look on his face surprisingly pleasant.

“Indeed.”

“Oh what fates have brought us together,” he hugged her without warning, his long arms wrapping around her body and engulfing her. She felt uncomfortable and tried to slip out of his hold but she couldn’t get away no matter how hard she tried.

When he finally put her down they walked down the steps and she took note of how silently he moved. Lydia finished filling up some plates and handed one to her. With her eyes she pointed towards Cicero to which Estina gave her a look saying “Sure whatever. Feed him and maybe he’ll leave.”

Lydia handed him a bowl to which he responded with a thousand thank you’s. He took her hand unexpectedly and kissed it gently. Her face went red and Estina, seeing the action out of the corner of her eye, looked away feeling an unrecognizable emotion flood through her.

She ate quickly, wincing as she remembered biting her tongue and barely tasted the food as Lydia awkwardly attempted small talk with Cicero. The Bosmer observed how he seemed to have more sanity indoors and when he was surrounded by others.

She noticed how he occasionally looked around the room, how his eyes darted quickly towards something in her direction before looking forward again.

She took note of his relaxed yet ready-for-action way of sitting, and how he had somehow already finished his food long before her.

He kept his hat on and it pushed his red hair back from his face. Estina found her eyes following the curve of his jaw and zoned out while he talked about this and that. Lydia was still on edge but because her Thane was relaxed around this man she forced herself to be so to. In all honesty she was rather curious as to why there was a jester in Skyrim.

Meanwhile faithful Cicero did his best to entertain this random and somewhat boring stranger, all the while sneaking glances over at his Listener. All the stress was gone and for once he felt clarity in his mind but now the emptiness was being filled with questions. Why had Mother chosen her? What did she have that was so special? As he looked at her in the soft glow of the fire he could clearly see her face as she had to remove her cowl to eat.

Her cherry eyes were blank as she stared at the two of them but not really looking. She had finished eating a few moments after himself and he watched as her tongue wiggled around her mouth to get the food bits unstuck from between her teeth. Her skin was unearthly smooth for a warrior and her hair framed her face as her head tilted downwards. His heart beat loudly in his chest and he looked away.

“My Thane,” Lydia pronounced loudly, “I… shall retire for the night.” Estina regained her senses and nodded. By the tone she figured Lydia would stay up until she herself went to bed or until the jester left.

Lydia practically ran up the stairs in her haste to get away and when she heard the door shut softly she stiffened. Now it was time for her to deal with this man. To deal with Cicero and to tie up loose ends with the Dark Brotherhood.

She leaned forward, “Cicero,” her voice was firm. He leaned towards her as well as she spoke. He had his lips pressed together as if he were trying hard not to smile, “explain to me again about this whole… thing. What was it? I have to listen to someone?”

Cicero leaned away looking a little disheartened as he realized his Listener did not, in fact, yet know her position and the importance of it, “The Listener is the one who can hear sweet Mother’s voice. She can hear all that our Mother says to her and she must act accordingly.”

He smiled, and Estina didn’t understand this position any more than she had an hour ago. She crossed her legs, something she rarely did, even rarer still that she was sitting in a chair. She started to unconsciously play with her necklace, feeling the cool metal against the tips of her fingers and she bit her lip, “Okay fine. Whatever, I’m another favorite of the gods, but why me?” As if being the Dragonborn wasn’t enough work.”

The jester’s smile fell, “That is something you’d have to ask Mother. Poor Cicero doesn’t know, for he is just the Keeper, he won’t ever hear Mother’s voice.” A woeful look filled his face as he stared into the distance. Any charm he had once harbored over her was now gone as he made that face.

Estina scratched her nose before reaching back for her hood. She leaves the mask down when she sleeps to breathe better but the hood hardly ever came down. It was like her second skin.

“Well… maybe I’ll sleep on it,” she stood and quietly made her way upstairs. Not a moment later she heard Cicero’s footsteps as he walked close behind her.

“This isn’t a choice sweet Estina, Mother’s chosen you and by Sithis Cicero will kidnap you if he must!”  She turned around to look at him. The charm had returned at the look of extreme determination on his face. Somehow, the way he looked right now made Estina want to go with him. To let him take her to this Night Mother and live out her life as whatever the Night Mother wanted her to be.

She shook her head and her senses returned. She turned away from the fool.

“You know, I have a lot of titles. One might say too many. I don’t need another one. However, I’ll see what you have to offer, but if my choice isn’t to your liking then I’m so sorry that I have a busy life.”

With that she started to shut her bedroom door but Cicero wedged his foot in before she could close it, “Sweet Listener,” he pleaded in a soft voice as he entered and shut the door behind him. He didn’t say anything for moment, just sat down in the chair in the corner of the room and played with his dagger, “Humble Cicero lives to serve.”

Estina eyed him wearily. After all, he had just tried to murder her earlier that day, why should she trust him now? “How do I know you’re not going to kill me in the middle of the night?”

He chuckled and it was soft, chime of a noise, “You spoke the words. If anything, dear Listener, you brought this upon yourself. Cicero will not harm you, he can’t! Now that he knows your fit in this puzzle.”

His voice was dark and completely unlike the jovial tone she had been growing used to. She actually… felt a tinge of fear when he talked like that. She bit the inside of her cheek and sat down on the bed, “Well if you decide to kill me,” she said trying to make light of the situation, “do it quickly will you?” he couldn’t see but she had a nervous half smile playing on her lips.

She laid down but found that sleep did not come easy. She could feel his presence across the room and her heart was beating loud and erratically in her ears. Around one she finally felt herself drifting on the edge of consciousness and sleep. She kept waking though when she could’ve sworn she felt a hand running up the side of her leg.

Finally she managed a few hours of deep sleep and awoke to a complete warmth wrapped around her. She couldn’t remember pulling up the blanket and as she moved to sit up she found she her body was tightly bound by two arms and a heavy leg.

She stilled and felt a heart beating against her back. She turned her head and saw Cicero lying peacefully with his eyes closed. She wondered if he was asleep but by his controlled but steady breathing she could tell he was fully awake, “Let me go.” Her voice was groggy and all around unpleasant. She wasn’t a morning person.

He didn’t open his eyes, “Oh but kind Estina makes such a lovely pillow,” he squeezed her against him and nearly knocked all the air out of her system. “She has more than one too…”

Suddenly his hands fluttered over to her breasts and gently took hold of them in a firm yet sudden grip. Estina felt a shiver rush down her spine. She wasn’t sure if it was pleasure from being untouched for so long or if it was because she felt extremely uncomfortable.

“I just met you,” she tried to reason, “let’s not…” he pulled her even closer to shut her up. She let out a gasp as he breathed hot air on the back of her exposed neck. She hadn’t even known her hood was down.

“Cicero knows you and he are one in the same. There is no mercy, only fear and death and destruction, and perhaps sometimes a break in-between.” He leaned closer until his voice was in her ear, “Cicero would very much like to be that break today for kind Estina.”

Estina blushed, but not because of what he was saying. She felt ashamed she had allowed herself to be forced into this position. It’s not like she wouldn’t gladly take a good man to bed – and judging by his movements he was well capable of the act – but this madman was a different story from all the others. He had tried to kill her, he was clearly insane, and he was claiming she was his god’s puppet. He was also handsome.

Okay, scratch the last one. She’s fucked a lot of hot men, but maybe Cicero was a little bit above the rest? Her thoughts stopped as he swirled his wet tongue across the back of her neck. She couldn’t recall a time when her mind felt so clouded with the thought of sex that she actually considered letting it happen when she had so carelessly fallen asleep and fallen prey to him.

She couldn’t even remember the last time she had done it proper, on a bed with warm fur sheets and completely undressed.

“Did Cicero ever mention that sweet Estina is quite a lovely sight without her hood?” Estina gulped and felt even more vulnerable. She struggled in vain against his iron grip, mentally cursing herself for getting captured in the most degrading of ways.

He squeezed her chest once more before suddenly disappearing. The loss of touch and warmth surprised her so much that she let out a soft wonton cry. Immediately she prayed he hadn’t heard her. If he had he made no comment. She turned around and her eyes landed on his shirtless chest. She blushed heavily and a rush of excitement ran through her.

The normally composed Estina gulped at the sight of him, she turned away with burning cheeks. She heard Cicero giggle, and she mentally slapped herself. She gasped as he suddenly pinned her to the bed. He held her arms above her head and towered over her with a soft grin. His hat sat askew atop his head and Estina couldn’t think of a sight sexier than this.

She felt her heart stop and her mind go silent. She didn’t process his heavy breath, or even her own, the only thing she could concentrate on was her last thought. _Shit… I just met him too… but I suppose that’s never stopped me before. Especially… in the days before Skyrim._

Her arms went lax, leaving Cicero surprised. He stared into her cherry eyes, relishing the feel of her shaking, nervous body, her wild ragged breaths and her hair flying out in all directions.

The sight of her giving herself up to him made him really truly, _want it_. He wanted her, he wanted it like an assassin wants to kill. He leaned down, not at all troubled about their past history. Mother must have brought them together, she knew he was lonely, she knew what he needed.

Sithis bless the Night Mother.

 At first it was merely a moment he had wanted to relieve himself from sitting on the hard wooden chair. He just wanted maybe a tiny little second of sleep, but sweet Estina’s body heat was too much for poor Cicero and he had to take his shirt off. Oh but then he was too cold and the sheets were pinned under his Listeners body. He was stuck, like his time at the Loreius farm! But this time he was in a warm bed by a warm body so he snuggled up to his sweet Listener, hoping she wouldn’t mind.

He had fallen too far asleep lying there so comfortably against her. He couldn’t help it if his arms had snaked around her, he couldn’t help it if he liked the feel of her leather armor against his chest. He didn’t want to help it.

Then she woke, and for a brief heart-stopping moment he thought he was going be flung across the room in a fit of rage. Then the thought of her tiny body holding such hidden strength made a warmth flood through his body and straight to his lower regions.

And then he couldn’t stop, so now here he was, leaning above her, sweaty, and having more fun than he could’ve ever imagined getting. He licked his lips, and inched a little closer to sweet Estina.


	5. Chapter 5

**5**

_I’ll just get it over with. I’ll let him do it, and there’s a good chance I’ll like it too. Gods, how long as it been? Years at least… gods I need it, and he’s offering so willingly… oh who gives a shit if we fuck anyway?_

Estina screwed her eyes shut as Cicero’s mouth latched onto her neck and began sucking furiously. She wanted desperately to hold back her moans but as his hands went elsewhere she gave up that hope and let out a sharp squeak.

“I didn’t know this is what you meant by serve, Cicero,” she joked. The jester looked up at her with dark eyes.

“Oh yes,” he said in a low and husky voice, “Humble Cicero will serve his sweet Listener in all kinds of ways. You’ll have to excuse his incompetence though, he’s a little out of practice.”

Estina felt her eyes widen, this was him out of practice? Then by the eight what is he like normally? Her thoughts were interrupted as Cicero began to unfasten her armor. She heard the zipper coming undone and looked down to see the metal between his teeth as he pulled. Who cares about this whole Dark Brotherhood business anyway? Clearly he was over it so she should be too.

Just as she was starting to lose herself in this madman’s rhythm, someone knocked on the door. Her eyes opened as Lydia’s voice streamed through the cracks in the wood, “My Thane? I am making breakfast. I assume you and your guest are still here”

Neither of them moved for a second. Estina started to push Cicero off of her but he kept a firm grip and pushed her down roughly, “Shit…” she cursed as her shoes were tugged of furiously.

“Is everything alright my Thane?”

“Yeah… sure…” Estina tried to sound normal but when her lower regions were invaded by Cicero’s fingers she was beyond words. Lydia was either a virgin who didn’t know the sounds of sex, or she thought her Thane was dying. Either way she let out a worried cry and started to open the door.

“Estina?” she cried as she entered the room.

“No don’t –” looking around she was somewhat astonished to see that Cicero had completely disappeared from sight. She could still feel herself partly uncovered but a blanket had been hastily thrown over her legs.

She was breathing heavily as she looked around, “Are you alright?” Lydia asked once more.        

The Bosmer shook her head and curled her hands into fists slowly. The thought of sex still raced through her mind but it was starting to recede the longer she talked to Lydia. She felt her heart beating loud in her chest. She shifted uncomfortably.

“Yeah I’m fine. Just had a weird dream. Need a few minutes… uh, breakfast sounds great by the way. Just um, shut the door when you leave if you don’t mind.”

Lydia gave her a weary look before nodding and doing as she was told without question. Estina fell back onto the covers, starting to wonder if all that had happened just now was a dream when a body was towering over her once more.

She yelped and Cicero chuckled, “Cicero did not mean to leave his Listener in the middle of his services but he thinks it’s best if the one you call Lydia does not see us like this.”

Before she could react or run away or yell he came towards her quickly and captured her mouth. A hot warmth bloomed in her chest and traveled down through the pit of her stomach and continue downwards. Her eyelids flutter shut as her hands landed on his sturdy chest.

He broke his oral hold on her and remained there, hovering above her. His mouth was slightly ajar and his hair was slightly askew, yet somehow his hat still remained atop his head. Estina to the time to look at him, really look at him.

His hair just brushed his shoulders and at their close proximity she could feel it tickling her skin. His hot breath came in puffs from his thin but very pink lips, Estina admired his dark chocolate eyes and lashes and how they stared at her half-lidded with want. She felt her sex drive boot up again as his hand massaged her arm.

She squeezed her eyes shut and sweat began to bead along the edges of her brow. She was way too hot in her armor, and for once she wanted nothing more than to remove it. She gasped as Cicero gripped her still bare legs and ran a hand along her now shivering thigh.

“Cicero thought it might be too unprofessional to do anything of this caliber to his sweet and luscious Listener, but then he decided that’s it’s best for everyone when he doesn’t think.”

Before the Bosmer could come back with any kind of quip he removed her smalls and his mouth latched onto her body. He began sucking like a starved leech and licking furiously but never once nipping at her sensitive areas.

The pleasurable feeling on unused muscles nearly paralyzed her. Her mouth hung open in a silent scream and Cicero looked up and relished in the thought of this now ruined girl. She gritted her teeth, all the while still wondering if he was being truthful about being out of practice.

As he flicked his tongue in circles around her most sensitive spot his hands snaked wherever he pleased. One to breech her entrance and one to squeeze her breast and remove her aggravating armor that was now very much in his way

He withdrew suddenly and Estina opened her eyes just in time to see his face crash into her as he kissed her furiously. He tasted salty-sweet and she allowed him to pry her mouth open with his tongue. While inside her mouth he could feel the bite marks from when she had bitten herself earlier. He toyed with the still sensitive wounds causing a whimper to escape her lips.

She felt him play with her a little more before suddenly putting his all into her. Her eyes opened wide, surprised at his sudden entrance and gasped. She reached up and gripped his shoulders, digging her uncut nails into his back and raking them down hard, leaving angry red lines. She didn't even know when he'd had the time to remove his trousers.

He pulled her up, and flipping around sat her on top of him. She looked down and saw herself bouncing on top of him and she noticed his pants were still on and that they were merely unbuttoned. She ignored this thought as he went harder and faster, making for a quickie.

His hand reached down to caress her spot again and soon pleasure zipped through her like lighting. She squeezed herself against him and he held on tight as he finished moments later.

She remained on top of him, feeling his length go a little soft but all the same enjoying the after sex feel. When she had her fill she slid off and landed on the bed, curling into the soft sheets.

She closed her eyes for a moment to refocus when Cicero suddenly slapped her still bare ass. She glared at him angrily and he giggled, “Cicero thinks the Night Mother knew what he needed,” he whispered gently while nudging her ear with his nose, “he most assuredly needed the Listener but this is so much better.”

Estina leaned away from him as her senses came back to her. She scowled and quickly stood to retrieve her scattered armor, “I could care less about the fact that I know little to nothing about you, but I do know that first you tried to do was kill me, then you’re spouting about this whole Dark Brotherhood business, and now you’ve fucked me. I think I’ve had enough of you for one day.”

She pulled her hood – surprisingly it was still on her head and so was Cicero’s hat on his – and stormed out the door. Cicero following behind not a moment later and fully dressed. He put a hand on her shoulder as they reached the stairs, “But sweet Listener won’t you at least hear poor Cicero out? Just for one little second?” She turned and saw his big shining puppy eyes that poked at her heart behind its wall.

Crossing her arms she remained put but allowed him to speak his peace. Cicero clapped and she frowned, “I’ve told you I don’t wish for another title.” She knew that was a lie, and as he looked at her she could tell he knew as well. There were times when she could care less about titles, but to her it was more of the responsibilities that followed suit.

Most of her Dragonborn business had subsided, though now she’s being attacked by crazy cultists who think she’s an imposter and that there’s only “One true Dragonborn” or something alike. Even still, being a Thane and the leader of the Thieves guild, and Nocturnal’s bitch, and so on becomes tiring. The workload was just too damn much sometimes. She liked to keep busy, but lately she's been feeling like everyone's servant or errand girl. She didn't appreciate this feeling.

“Oh Cicero knows and he understands, he thinks, but listen! The Night Mother chose you for some reason he cannot think of right now and he knows kindly Estina could care less about ending the lives of Cicero’s brotherhood family, but perhaps she may wish to tie up one last very small loose ends?” his voice ended in a squeak which made Estina turn to look at him.

“What loose ends could there possibly be?” she demanded.

“Well you are still the Listener according to Mother. And until you confront her about it he doubts you will be left alone. Especially by faithful Cicero.”

Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew he was making a valid point but at the same time all of her titles were rushing through her like lighting. She hated all the times she had been called “My Thane,” or “Dragonborn” and “The Chosen One” and all that bull. She just wanted to go back to being her own lonesome self sometimes.

As Estina was about ready to scream her head off at Cicero a knock came at the door. From the top of the stairs she watched as Lydia opened the door to reveal yet another currier, “Is Lady Estina in today?”

 “Yes… My Thane are you – oh.”

Estina walked down to the main room, grateful for an excuse to get away from Cicero.

“Ah. Here, a letter. Your eyes only,” he handed her a slip of paper and ran off to tend to other business. Estina raised her eyebrow but decided to read the letter now rather than later. She opened the folded note and immediately recognized Brynjolf’s loopy handwriting.

“Ooh what does it say?” She subtly refolded the paper turned away from Cicero so he couldn’t read the note. When she was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to read alongside her she opened the note once more.

_Estina, I know you still have the key lass. To be honest I would’ve done the same thing since it saves you some lock picks, but Karliah threw a fit when Nocturnal told her she still hadn’t received her key. I suggest you get it to her quick before we all pay for it later. It's been what, a year or so? All I'm saying is that she isn’t a master archer for no reason. I would rather not see you have your ass handed to you lass. Brynjolf._

For a moment she had to remember what key he had been talking about and then she remembered the skeleton key. With a sigh she fished around in her pocket to where she always kept the glowing object no matter what. For once, she had forgotten to take it out of her Nightingale armor and she was glad Adrianne hadn’t taken it.

She pulled it out and turned the key over in her hands and tried to think back to the last time she had used it. It had been a few months, and to be honest she never really used it in the first place seeing as she usually had an abundance of lock picks. Mostly, she had just been too busy, or too lazy, to have returned it in the first place. Well, among other reasons too.

“Why do I have to do it?” She grumbled to herself. This was exactly what she hated, being expected to every gods damn task on this menial planet, running around all of Skyrim just because she can shout people to pieces. She let out a frustrated sigh.

Cicero bounced lightly on his toes, his questions simmering inside him so furiously he was about to boil over. He remained silent however, for he did not want to upset his Listener.

Estina pointedly ignored him. Turning away and crumpling the paper before setting it alight with a small fire spell. She put the key back into her pocket and started pacing. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Cicero’s motley and felt an incredibly irritating urge to run her fingers against the fabric.

She tried her best to ignore these thoughts and focused on the key, “I wish I could send you,” she said more to herself than anything.

He heard her anyway and he answered too, “What are you talking about sweet Listener? Whatever it is Cicero will gladly do it, he will do anything for his Listener.” His eager voice did little to soothe her nerves about entering the Twilight Sepulcher. The more she thought about it she now remembered that the real reason she hadn’t returned the key is because, quite frankly, the place was fucking creepy.

She remembered that she had, in fact, gone to the Sepulcher and had taken two steps inside and after a brief conversation with the sentinel she had decided to bolt. Estina was scared of few things, but the Sepulcher was purely unnatural. And as much as she wanted to she figured that sending in a Brotherhood member to do Nightingale business was a bad idea.

However she supposed… he could come with?

No, that’s a terrible idea. Well, was it really though? Estina shook her head and risked a glance over at the eager Cicero. He was gently pushing his two first fingers together and was concentrating on them so hard he seemed oblivious to the world. She turned to look at him fully, trying to ignore the sudden thought – and the feeling that came with it – of his fingers inside her.

She weighed in her options when she pulled him mind out of the dirt. On the one hand she’d have someone to keep her company, on the other she’d have to put up with him. If he refused she could provide some incentive by promising to meet this Night Mother, but then she’d have to live up to that promise.

Decisions, decisions…

Finally she dragged a hand across her uncovered face and pulled up her mask, “Fine. Alright Cicero, I have a proposition to make.”

Cicero clapped, “Ooh what kind? Do we get to kill someone?”

His bloodlust disturbed and intrigued her, “Most likely,” she answered, “now. I need return a key back to its rightful owner. If you come with me then well, I’ll hear out this whole Listener business alright?”

Cicero smiled so wide she thought he looked a little creepy, “Oh really sweet Listener? Cicero is so excited to hear this news!” Without warning he picked her up by the waist and swung her around in a hug. She just let it happen, keeping her body stiff. When he put her down she turned and promptly began for the door, groaning when he said, “But humble Cicero would’ve followed you anyways.

“Of course you would’ve,” Estina glared out at the world as they exited. She wanted to get on with this mission as quick as possible.

The road to the Twilight Sepulcher was, as per usual, boring as Sovngarde on a Tuesday night. God she hated travelling, why wasn’t there a traveling shout or something? Now _that_ she could do. The Bosmer rode her steed with a board expression while Cicero retrieved his shadowy horse to which, Estina was sure of now, was made of pure inky blackness. The sun was setting when they arrived and the sky was dusted pink closer to the horizon.

They walked up to the doors and Estina tried to hold back an uncomfortable fidget as she felt the tentacles of fear poke at her nerves. Cicero smiled at her before charging on ahead. Somehow his aloof foolishness gave her confidence as she walked down the steps right behind him.

“Ah, you’ve returned,” she turned towards the ghostly sentinel. His hand passed through by accident and the cold shock was tremendous and left her arm feeling eternally frozen.

“Yes. I’m ready to return the key now.”

“Very well. Remember to follow the Pilgrims path. And if you wish you can find Nystrom’s Journal,” Estina nodded and the sentinel watched as she backed away a little, her worry beginning to take over.

“Is this it?” Cicero wailed from across the room, holding up a frayed and battered notebook. The ghost man nodded and pointed.

“Indeed,” slightly baffled, she continued to stand there even as Cicero started to go on ahead without Estina. Maybe he would’ve been fine if she just sent him in on his own.

Even if he wouldn’t, she realized she probably could’ve gotten rid of him easily with Nocturnal’s wrath.

She followed behind him, unable to make out what he was muttering under his breath as he read the Journal. He followed the cut path of the stone without ever looking up once and did all the various tasks for her. They came across many other sentinels who were rather hard to defeat in her opinion, but Cicero let his bloodlust control him to which she was perfectly fine with. She found it fun to watch him kill.

They reached a room filled with patches of bright light, she walked straight ahead, completely ignorant as Cicero read, “And stick to the shadows.” She took one step in the brilliant light and found her leg seized with pain. Her skin began to burn under her armor and she jumped back in surprise.

“What in the name of..?”

“Listener? My Listener are you alright?” Estina ignored Cicero’s frantic cries and removed her boot and rolled up the pants. There was no indication that she had been burnt or even remotely hurt, but she could still feel the stinging and ghostly pain.

“The shadows huh?” Estina rose and began to crawl the frail bits of darkness at the edge of the room. They went up and down and all around, Cicero stuck close and breathed as silently as he moved.

Finally they reached what she assumed was the end. They found an empty round pit littered with the bones of those foolish enough to jump in. She looked carefully but there was no indication of there ever being a way to escape other than to go back.

She let out a frustrated sigh, “Well now what? Does she just want us to die here? Was this all a trap to begin with?”

Briefly she considered turning back and keeping the key after all, but the idea of going through the light-skin-burning room again worried her.

“Maybe this is the way we go!” Estina had less than a second to react before his body slammed into hers and sent them both tumbling over the edge of the stone and into the pit. She landed on her back and felt her spine pop in all the wrong places.

She groaned at Cicero’s weight on top of her and was grateful when he rolled off, “What is wrong with you…” she complained in a wheezy voice.

Cicero turned over and she felt him rubbing circles around her hand, “Nothing that wasn’t already wrong.” He giggled his surprisingly endearing laugh and Estina sat up with a faint blush dusting her hidden cheeks. For the first time since she’s put on armor, she felt warm.

She tried her best to shake off the feeling and it didn’t take long for the sense of dread of wash over her. Thanks to this idiot they were both stuck down here for Talos knowns how long. She groaned and angrily kicked the side of the wall.

“You idiot,” she screamed, her voice echoing up the dimly lit shaft, “We’re dead. I knew I was going to die one day but not like this. Not in a pathetic excuse of a trap. With a madman no less.”

She huffed and began scrabbling her hands across the surface for even a small handhold. She couldn’t find any type of leverage that would hold her weight. She put her hands on her hips angrily and felt the sharp tip of something biting at her skin.

She pulled put the skeleton key and without a moment’s hesitation threw it at the far wall, “If this key didn’t exist I wouldn’t be here.”

Cicero stood and went over to retrieve it when the walls of the pit began to shake. Estina didn’t even care, figuring it was an earthquake or that a dragon was flying overhead, but as she crossed her arms the floor gave way.

The two were sent flying down a dark pit and she heard Cicero screaming with an odd amount of enthusiasm. Estina looked for the ground but all she saw was darkness and then her feet were on the ground. She blinked and looked up only to see they had fallen only a few feet.

She heard a thud and a loud clang. Turning she saw Cicero lying on his stomach and the glint of the skeleton key next to him. She went to retrieve it and looked around, in the center of the room was a deep blue circle with a grey stone lock in the center.

Taking a quick look at the key she had no doubt she was supposed to insert it into the latch, but she also knew Nocturnal would be rather upset to find a non-Nightingale in her realm. Deciding to fuck it she reached forward and thrust it in without a second thought.

The blue ring immediately lifted and turned into a pedestal being held in place by claw-like rock formations. The center in the blue bunched up into a point before falling back with a splash. From the liquid a cloaked figure emerged along with a flock of crows.

“My, my, what do we have here?” her voice was smooth and deep just like when she first heard it. Only up close and personal it sounded much richer to Estina’s pointed ears, “It’s been a number of years since I’ve set foot on your world, or perhaps it’s been moments. One tends to lose track. So… once again the key has been stolen and a “champion” returns it…”

Estina noticed her gaze wander from her to Cicero sitting idly on the ground. She pursed her lips underneath her hood and waited for something to happen. She didn’t know if Nocturnal would kill him on sight or kill her for her insolence of bringing an outsider in here.

“A champion and her companion,” her voice was calm but Estina could have sworn she had detected a bit of malice. “Tell me, dear Nightingale, why you have brought someone along with you?”

The Bosmer blinked rapidly under her hood, grateful that no one could see her face. She tried to resist the urge to fidget uncontrollably under Nocturnal’s piercing gaze.

Suddenly Cicero decided to speak, “She is my Listener. Faithful Cicero shall follow her until the ends of the earth!” his declaration was loud and awkward and Nocturnal did not seem amused.

She patted the head of one of the birds on her shoulder when it cawed. With a crack of her jaw she spoke, “Well… I can’t be _too_ irate as you brought me back my key, so I suppose your reward for now is to let him live. Be warned though, should you ever bring him here again neither of you shall see the daylight and shall be forever bound to the Twilight Sepulcher.”

Nocturnal raised her arms and slowly began to lower herself into the blue glowing liquid, “Farewell Nightingale. See to it the key stay’s safe this time, won’t you? And _don’t_ bring anyone else.”

When Nocturnal disappeared Estina jumped a little when Cicero suddenly hugged her, hard. She pushed him off not believing he had gotten away so easily. He had no wrath facing to do, no consequences, he didn’t even get chastised for being an insufferable idiot!

“You two best be leaving now,” Estina almost, _almost,_ screamed at the sudden voice. Granted she did start quite a bit as hadn’t even for a second realized that Karliah was in the room with her now, “before she changes her mind. Before _I_ change my mind about letting you get away alive.”

Estina held up her hands as if to fend off Karliah’s growing rage, “Fair enough. It was my fault, I shouldn’t have brought him down here.”

Karliah didn’t say anything only angled her chin towards a swirling purple doorway, “There’s the exit.”

There was a brief moment where Estina wanted to say something, to apologize or make some kind of amend, but Cicero took her hand and forcefully shoved her out the door. He began twirling her around like a doll, “Now the Listener _has_ to hear out _why_ she’s the Listener! Oh Cicero is so excited!”

He gave her one last twirl before setting her down. She grimaced and blushed at the same time when he squeezed her ass and then skipped away as if he were the gayest man in all of Tamriel.

They exited the Sepulcher without words. Not without silence though as Cicero began to hum quietly as they remounted their steeds. As they bounced along the path she noticed a couple of familiar markings and decided they were to stay in Falkreath for the night. Her proclamation to stay in that particular town made Cicero extremely excited for one reason or another but she was too tired to give anymore shits.

She told him they’d talk tomorrow and that if he wanted to sleep in a bed he’d have to pay for his own. He said he’d sleep outside and she couldn’t care less. But when she laid down to rest that night she heard the sound of a window unlatching and felt the warmth of someone’s body as they laid next to her.

She was ready to stab, or be stabbed, but already she could familiarize herself with the ripple of Cicero’s muscles and despite herself she relaxed.

She decided to just let it be and curse him out later.


	6. 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah it's been a bit. No promises if the updates will go any faster, but I probably haven't given up on this story yet. Every so often I get the urge to play this game, and in order to get my story right I play through the Dark Brotherhood quest haha. Anyway enjoy. It's been long awaited for some of you I'm sure!

**6**

  
When she awoke she didn’t bother opening her eyes. Instead she felt her surroundings with her body and figured she had somehow turned over in her sleep and was now breathing into Cicero’s chest.

  
In one swift movement she grabbed the jester with two hands, picked him up and rolled him to the other side – all the while surprised by how light he actually was – before placing her foot square on his chest, and swiftly kicking him off the bed. She was in no mood to deal with him first thing in the morning.

  
She then promptly turned over and snuggled into the sheets. She heard Cicero groan and sit up, “Sweet Listener is not so sweet in the morning, is she?”

  
Estina growled in answer. She ignored him as she heard him open the door and leave only to return a few moments later with something that smelled warm and fresh. She heard the sound of wood scratching wood as he moved a chair and the sound of a plate hitting the table. She turned over and cracked an open to see a platter filled with bread, fruit, and cheese.

  
Without getting out of bed she started to reach over but a hand latching tightly onto her wrist stopped her from getting any closer to the food. She glared at Cicero who was smiling childishly, “Not for you sweet Listener. You made poor Cicero stay outside, and then kicked him out of bed,” he stuck out his bottom lip and she resisted the urge to smile at his pouty banter.

  
“If I recall correctly, you were going to stay outside voluntarily. And then you snuck into my room. Anyway, I’m “the Listen person” so listen to me when I say I’m hungry.”  
Cicero giggled, “That’s not how it works but Cicero will give you the benefit of the doubt this time.” He released her hand, but not without kissing the top of it, and placed a small bread roll into her still open palm.

  
Pulling down her face guard she slowly chewed on it. It was soft and still quite warm, probably just baked. She wondered how he had gotten fresh bread, maybe he stole it. As she ate she noticed that if she laid on her back her hood came down to cover her eyes and she couldn’t see much save for a little slit of the wood ceiling.

  
Estina was enjoying the silence, and she actually growled a little when Cicero began to speak, “Cicero would like to tell sweet Estina her role in the Brotherhood now.”

  
She peaked out from under her hood. His eyes were full of hope and she decided to let the hood cover her vision again. She sighed in defeat. She cursed herself for making such a promise to him but to be fair she figured he would’ve died in the process, “Fine. Make it quick.”

  
She heard the chair scratch across the floor as he got comfortable, “Well,” Almost immediately Estina fell back asleep. She was awoken again by the sound of someone repeatedly saying her name again and again.

  
“Kindly Bosmer? Estina? Listener? Estina? Listener? Wake up?”

  
She cracked an eye open and saw Cicero’s face hovering just over hers. She was about to growl but remembered that she had promised to hear him out but instead she had fallen asleep. She almost felt a tinge of regret, but the feeling was cut short when Cicero placed a kiss on her cheek.

  
He grinned wildly and the wind was knocked out of Estina as he fell on top of her, allowing his full weight to crush her. His head snuggled into the crook of her neck and he bit down gently on her collarbone, “Mean Listener. She won’t even listen! Perhaps Cicero will have to teach her a lesson in selective hearing.”

Estina squirmed as she felt him grin, his tongue trailed up to her cheek and she wasn’t sure if what he was doing felt good or if it made her uncomfortable.

  
Just as she was about to push him off, or shout him off, a thunderous roar shook the inn. The two paused and she quickly stood, forcing him off. She scowled as she recognized the sound, “Oh great. Another dragon.” Jumping out of the warmth of the bed, and Cicero’s arms, she cracked her neck and rolled back her shoulders.

  
“Cicero can help! Although he’s never fought a dragon before, but they say there’s a first for everything,” she sent him a sidelong glance, considering it, but then quickly shook her head. Cicero was charming in his own right and she wasn’t sure if she was ready to let that go just yet despite her previous intentions in the Twilight Sepulcher.

  
She turned to glare at him, “There’s also a death for everything. That’s a terrible idea. Stay in here.” As she looked at him, somehow she couldn’t stand the idea of seeing Cicero crumpled up like a piece of paper. What could she say? In their short time together the bastard had grown on her.

“But Cicero can’t stand by idly while his Listener is defiled. Let poor humble Cicero help.”

  
She bit her lip. She had seen guards and heroes alike, all who tried to slay a dragon without a Dragonborn at their side would be slaughtered. They’d be burnt, frozen, eaten, or sometimes a combination of the three. Sure she was there to help him, but one slip up could send him packing. Or worse, herself.

  
Oh, but what did she care? He was just some stupid jester.

  
_“Desspite his precariouss manor, he iss the noblest of championss. My Keeper can handle himssself dear Lisstener.”_

  
Estina sighed and scratched at her side where her armor was the thickest, “I don’t expect you to do as I say, but can you at least duck when I tell you to?”

  
She then headed out the door without glancing back. The dragon roared again and the inn shook violently. If she weren’t used to the almost predictable roars of a dragon, she would be stumbling and falling on her ass like a wild drunk.

  
As the duo rushed outside the beast took in the tiniest of breaths. She couldn’t tell if it breathed fire, ice, or some other weird shit, but she didn’t want to get caught in it. Grabbing Cicero by the back of his shirt she hauled him over a small stone-made fence just as she felt the lick of flames nip at her backside. Several guards screamed in agony as they were burnt to a crisp and she could feel the wind as he started to take off.

  
Inhaling quickly, she called out for Odahviing. Within seconds she heard the fearsome roar from the skies. The second dragon took flight and once more teeth clashed with nail and vice versa. She really liked using Odahviing as a weapon, he was one of her most useful shouts, but she wished it didn’t take so long to recover from calling him. Right now, she could hardly utter a whisper. It felt as though her throat were on fire.

  
Ignoring the pain she pulled out her bow and aimed high. A couple of her steel arrows made it through, but most merely bounced off his scales. She was a pretty lucky shot at least, two stuck to the dragon’s soft underbelly, and the third managed to pierce his wing.

  
He soon fell, and he was falling quicker than she had anticipated. She jumped out of the way as he came crashing down, dead before he even touched the ground.  
Odahviing disappeared into the clouds and Estina turned her head the other way as she absorbed the dragon soul. Looking at it head on was always painfully blinding and left her with a headache for days.

  
When that was all finished, she turned to Cicero who was eyeing her curiously. She had kind of forgotten he was there. She tried to recall what he had done to help, but all she could think of was him standing there looking at her with a blank look on his face. So in other words, he’d done exactly what she wanted him to and stayed down. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved that he followed orders, or pissed off that he had bothered to listen to her this time.  
When he stared at her too long she snapped at him, “What?”

  
Cicero smiled and shrugged, “So you’re the famous Dragonborn everyone’s been talking about these past couple of years.”

  
She raised an eyebrow, “Yeah. So? Wait, you didn’t know that?” he had never mentioned it, so naturally she just assumed it wasn’t relevant for him.

  
“Cicero never said he didn’t know,” Estina raised an eyebrow. Somehow, maybe it was the cheekiness in his voice, she completely doubted that statement. From that tone there was no way he knew her true identity.

  
“Right. Sure,” scratching her head she switched her magic to a healing spell. There was a sudden ache in her side that she knew wasn’t from sleeping on the bed wrong. A couple of bones popped as they righted themselves, mostly in her legs and lower back, and she huffed as the muscles twitched under the magic. She hated spells. She hated magic. She only used it because it was useful. It was just so much work remembering the right hand gestures and paying attention to how her mana was fairing. It was just so much easier to stab until the other party was dead.

  
Without warning, Cicero scooped her up and started walking in what seemed to be an obscure direction. She was about to protest but soon found that he had merely carried her to the stables where her stead was currently eating hay off the ground. She hopped on, and behind her Cicero jumped onto his shadowy horse.

  
She looked at him and he looked back up at her. He sighed, “Please dear Listener. Won’t you listen to the Night Mother and your duties?”

  
His tone was far from pleading, but it was soft and endearing in a way that made her usually boiling blood calm to a rolling simmer. She inhaled as much air as her lungs would allow before letting it all back out.

  
She really didn’t want to be another goddess’s bitch, but what choice did she have anymore? The gods of the round table were already deciding her next move before she even wakes up, “Very well. Lead the way.”

Cicero smiled and started trotting off down the road, “Excellent! This way lovely Estina.”

  
She dragged a hand down her masked face but did as she was told for once. As they traveled, a gentle breeze started up. If it weren’t for her horse putting his head up to feel it though, she never would’ve known thanks to her armor.

  
As they traveled, she admired the still rising sun and the way the mountain looked in the distance. From here she could just barely make out the base of the Throat of the World. Man that had been an absolute pain to climb. At least the shout she learned was useful.

  
One pair of hooves stopped moving and she directed her attention to a small shack. Cicero hopped off and tied his horse to a barely stable fencepost that would probably get destroyed should his stead run off.

  
Estina pursed her lips and slowly followed him inside. She remained wary of any traps and what not. In truth, she was a little curious as to if this Night Mother truly existed, or if the jester was really just as mad she thought. Then again, the voice in her head would beg to differ.

  
“Oh Mother we’re home now! Finally, oh dear I must get you cleaned up…” Estina couldn’t help but feel mildly annoyed as he ignored her and began pulling out bottles and a rag and other various supplies.

  
When she looked up, she saw a massive coffin resting against a weak looking wall. She noticed, simply by size, that it was indeed the coffin that had been in his wagon. She crossed her arms and when Cicero opened it she felt appalled at the old corpse inside.

  
_“Don’t judge me, little Esstina. At lassst we finally meet.”_

  
The magic of the corpse calmed her frayed nerves and pulled her closer. She came so close that the only thing between her and the body was Cicero. The jester was vigorously oiling the Night Mother to the point where it broke Estina out of her trance a little at how uncomfortable it was making her.

  
Cicero was humming as if he were the happiest man in the world and she didn’t bother questioning it. If taking care of dead bodies was his thing, then who was she to judge? She’s met people with far worse fetishes.

  
_“Cicero isss quite faithful. Too bad he’ll never hear my voice… but… do thank him for me, would you?”_

  
Estina blinked as the magic retreated from her mind, allowing her to think clearly again. Up close, the magic was stronger than ever and it was rather haunting at how easily she could get lost in it.

  
Still, she did as she was told, “Night Mother says thank you.”

  
Cicero paused for half a second, before slowly continuing his chosen task. He was down to her legs and ankles and she was mildly impressed with how fast he had gotten the job done.

  
“…Thanks me for what sweet Listener?”

  
_“For understanding my call, and finding my Lisssener.”_

  
“For understanding her, or whatever.”

  
Cicero beamed up at the body and when he finished he bowed to her, “Yes of course Mother. Cicero will always understand.”

  
Estina rolled her eyes and went over to a chair. She sat down and decided to remove her hood so she could breathe better. At the last second she was worried it would smell terrible in here, like a hall of the dead, but she was pleasantly surprised that there was a strong aroma of mountain flowers instead. Although, if she concentrated she was pretty sure there was something fowl under the scent, but she didn’t bother focusing on it too much.

  
She watched as Cicero continued with another layer of oils. She thought he would’ve been done with one, but from the bowls sitting out it looks like she’d have to wait awhile. She opened her mouth to speak, but the world around her suddenly went dark.

  
All she saw was a bleak nothingness for miles. There was no sound, just her own heartbeat. She panicked at first, but then slowly a figure came into view. The image of her wasn’t clear, but she was a slim women with medium length hair that appeared to have some of it braided or tied back.

  
While most of her face and skin color seemed obscured, the shock of red lips, purple eyes, and pitch black hair was obvious. Her robes came into view and she wore a long red dress adorned with a few bits of golden jewelry.

  
“Greetings Listener.”

  
It took her a moment to realize that this was the Night Mother.

  
She readjusted in her seat, “Hey…”

  
The women stood still, not bothering to move any closer and for that she was grateful. The Night Mother tilted her head and folded her hands in front of her, “My dear Listener. Your duty now is to carry out my will and reform the Dark Brotherhood.”

  
Estina tried very hard not to roll her eyes, but in the end she lost to her own battle of wills and sunk further into the chair, “Another god wanting me to do their business. How charming.”

  
The women offered her a small yet genuine smile, “I know how you have suffered young one. The upcoming tasks will not be as difficult or as trivial as you may currently find them. Doing this for me can set you free in more ways than one.”

  
It took her until now to realize that the voice was normal and calm, there wasn’t a hiss to it, only a gentle motherly lull. She felt a long since buried pain in her chest at the thought of her own mother and she blocked it quickly.

  
“No. Let the feelings come.”

  
The women made a gesture with her hand and suddenly Estina was forced to remember every little thing about her childhood that she had spent years so desperately trying to erase. Not everything came to light, but there was enough to drive her to madness if she dwelled on it.

  
**_Flash_**

“No stop! Leave us alone!”  
“There’s no hope for you and your disgusting Bosmer kind.”  
Flash  
“Now be a good little whore and come here… yeah that’s right, right on daddy’s lap.”  
“You’re not my dad!”  
…  
“Ow! You little slut!”

  
**_Flash_**

  
“Can I help you miss?”  
“G-guards…”  
“What’s wrong… oh dear! Someone help! Quick, this little girl is bleeding!”

  
**_Flash_**

  
“You’re lucky you were found where you were. Otherwise you might not have made it. Now tell me child, do you have any family members who can come pick you up? Or pay for our services?”  
Flash  
“Thought you could get away from me huh? Little whore… just like your useless mother.”  
“N-no! Get away!”

  
**_Flash_**

  
“By order of the Jarl you are sentenced to death for treason.”  
“Let go of me, you idiotic Imperials!”  
“You there, Bosmer, don’t think you’re getting away so easily either.”

  
**_Flash_**

  
_“You will be executed in three days for partaking in suspicious activities. Your connection to Allfnir the assassin will cost you your life.”_  
“B-but… I’m only fifteen. He… he kidnapped me and killed my family!”  
…  
“…There’s nothing else we can do. I’m sorry.”

  
Estina took in a deep breath of air before stumbling out of the chair and clawing at the air madly. She felt hands on her shoulders and she thrashed and fought tooth and nail trying desperately to get them off her. No, no more, she couldn’t take it. She didn’t want it. She didn’t want him.

  
“Estina... Estina!”

  
Hands gripped her face roughly, forcing her to still. At first the only face she saw was a blurry image of that man. That’s right, she remembered now. He was Nordic, with long, long blond hair and the palest skin. Allfnir.

  
Panicked settled low in her gut as the child in her surrendered to her fate, but as her breathing slowed Cicero’s concerned eyes gradually came into focus. She gripped at the hands holding her still, to see if he was really there, and was glad to feel the leather through the tips of her own fingerless gloves. She knew that man never covered his hands, this was Cicero. It had to be.

  
“Listener, Estina, what’s wrong? Did Mother show you a vision?”

  
With his help, she sat up and smoothed down most of the frizz in her hair. Her heart was still beating erratically and her skin felt warm. She took off her gloves and boots so she could flex her digits and make sure everything was real.

  
When she didn’t answer right away Cicero grew ever more concerned. He didn’t ask any more questions though, to which she was grateful for. When she had settled some she tried her best to find her voice.

  
“She told me we have to reform the Dark Brotherhood. Then she made me relive my childhood.”

  
Cicero’s gaze lowered to the floor, “I take it that it was not a kind one?”

  
Estina pursed her lips, “No. As much as it pains me to remember anything about it, I did recall an important detail: the name of the bastard who started this mess. Although, I’m sure he’s long dead by now.”

  
“Who was it? If I may ask kind Listener.”

  
“Some Nord named Allfnir.”

  
Cicero stood and went over to the table to grab something. When he came back he offered her a flask of water. She was slightly disappointed that it wasn’t mead or ale, but anything to drink right now was welcomed.

  
“That name is not familiar to poor Cicero. Not even for a contract.”

  
Estina stood and glanced over at the Night Mother’s body, “That’s fine. It’s not a big deal. Let’s just…” she sighed to herself, knowing she’ll probably regret her next course of actions, “let’s just do what the Night Mother wants and recruit some people.”

  
A joyous smile spread over Cicero’s face. The look of pure joy on a madman was becoming a familiar sight to her, and she realized that she had yet to see Cicero truly angry. She’s seen him mad as in insane plenty of times, but actually legitimately angry? Never. Something told her she didn’t want to either.

  
“This is wonderful news Listener! Oh Cicero can’t wait. Oh but hmm, we should move Mother quickly. Cicero spent some time digging around the old sanctuary and he learned of a place called Dawnstar up North. We should depart immediately!”

  
Estina watched as Cicero whipped around the room, gathering his few things and closing up the massive coffin. He left the little shack for a time and when he returned she could see his carriage through the doorway.

  
She didn’t bother offering help since he seemed to have a method to his madness. Everything went in a specific spot and if it was put it in the wrong place he would move it. Most of his stuff went in a little hatch under the driver’s bench, and Estina decided to throw her knapsack down there as well.

  
The next thing he did was head towards the coffin. She had actually been a little curious as to how he moved around. She assume he’d had help all this time, so she was actually a little surprised when he moved the heavy thing looking thing all the way out the doorway and next to the carriage by himself before asking for her assistance.  
“How heavy is that thing?” she asked when she neared. He didn’t even look to be breaking a sweat.

  
“Nothing humble Cicero can’t handle. Although the way up can sometimes a bit much for him.”

  
Estina hopped up onto the carriage and started to pull while he pushed. It had hardly budged an inch before she was out of breath. By Talos, the thing had to weigh at least as much as a fully grown horse!

  
Eventually, with lots of grunting and maneuvering and sweating, they got the coffin situated and Estina all but collapsed on the front bench while Cicero hooked up his midnight horse. When they took off at a steady pace, Estina fell asleep leaning against Cicero’s warm body. He didn’t complain in the slightest.


End file.
